


Fishing For A Dream

by goldenbootshersh



Series: The Other Man [3]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Older Woman/Younger Man, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 184,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenbootshersh/pseuds/goldenbootshersh
Summary: Layla French has come a long way from the woman she once was. Life, in fact, couldn’t be much better - she has the job of her dreams, her relationship with the love of her life is going from strength to strength, and she has a group of friends who are like the family she never had. But, when someone from her past makes an unexpected appearance, she finds herself not knowing who she can and can’t trust.
Series: The Other Man [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1015200
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	1. Bianca

I don’t know how long I stared at the girl claiming to be my long lost sister - my mouth agape and eight thousand questions fighting their way to the front, rendering me completely speechless - but it was only when Rose appeared at my side and touched my arm that complete shock faded and I started to realise I needed to do something. Whether it was to ask questions that would prove she was telling the truth, or calmly invite Bianca inside so we could talk, or at the very least I could cry! I just had to do something other than staring at her like a stunned mullet.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked, her voice sounding overwhelmingly loud though it was only just above a murmur. “What’s going on?”

I turned to look at her, and I saw a look of concern on my best friend’s face as the expression on mine said it all. My biological sister was apparently standing opposite me, but the woman who was slowly taking the bag of cat food I’d been clinging onto for dear life from me, she would always be my sister, too, and so much more. Rose was my sister in life, and the blood that ran through our veins may as well have been the same. We’d gone through thick and thin together, and I didn't trust anybody the way I did her. Nothing would ever change that. 

Opening my mouth to talk, nothing came out, so Bianca reached out the same hand I hadn’t been able to shake to Rose and said, “Hello, I’m Bianca, I’m-”

“My sister,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks grow warm and the urge to cry swell in my throat.

I could see Rose was as surprised and shocked as I was, but she hid it. She said hello and quickly shook Bianca’s hand, before reaching to hold mine, tightly. “Well, this is a bit of a… Christ, I don’t think words have failed me like this in a very long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Bianca grimaced apologetically, “I’ve spent months thinking of ways I can do this so it wouldn’t be too much of a shock.”

The three of us stood in awkward silence, and I found myself wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Dee was probably in the living room, eating curry and completely oblivious to the bombshell going on outside. Remembering food, my stomach rumbled, and I felt my body start to shake with a mix of hunger and shock. 

“I need to eat,” I blurted out, before quickly adding, “do you want to come inside? Are you hungry?”

I saw Bianca hesitate, looking over her shoulder at a car I guessed was hers. She looked so much like our mother, Paula - as did I, when I thought about it - that it was spooky, almost like her death had really just been a nightmare after all and she was reappearing to ask me where I had gone. I had known Bianca was an adult, but in my mind she was still a toddler and not a young woman who would look like me and who would be old enough to come to my office for an interview. 

She looked back at me, “I have my son in the car, is it okay if I go get him?”

“Oh! Uh… of course!” The urge to cry grew tenfold. A son. She had a son - my nephew, Paula’s grandson. The smile I forced was to hide how much I wanted to sob for all the things we’d all missed from each other’s lives, and from the joy of knowing I not only had a sister but I was an aunt, too. “Do you need a hand with him?”

“No, I should be okay, thanks. I just hope he stays asleep!” She chuckled, rolling her eyes in a way I often saw mothers do, one that was full of unconditional love and a lack of sleep.

Rose and I laughed with her, then Rose said, “We will leave the door open for you, just give us a shout if you need anything.”

I felt myself suddenly being pulled in the direction of the house, relieved that my friend had seen an opportunity to snatch a quick moment alone to regroup. Dee looked at us as we rushed into the living room and just as I’d pictured, she was happily eating her food and watching TV, but the moment she saw us she was on her feet.

“What’s happened? You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Layla’s sister just showed up.” Rose answered, grabbing a naan bread from the table and passing it to me to eat before I passed out. Looking me in the eye she then gently asked, “Are you okay? Do you want us to leave? Or we can hide in the kitchen.”

Feeling life return to me as soon as I swallowed the soft, doughy bread, I shook my head, “No, can you stay for now? I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. What if she hates me? What if she’s really angry with me? What if-”

Dee stepped forward, handing me her half-drunk beer so I could take a large swig of it. “Lil, that’s a lot of what ifs. She came and found you, she wouldn’t do that if she was angry or hated you. Of course we’ll stay, but just say if you want us to leave, and we’ll go. In fact, I’ll go make some tea so there isn’t three against one when she comes in.”

My bottom lip began to wobble, overwhelmed by how much I loved them both, how much I was truly blessed to have them in my life, and that they’d been at my home when Bianca had turned up. I reached out to hug them both, and they both spoke encouraging words as they held me, words that reminded me that I was loved and that everything would be okay.

As we parted, I heard a gentle knock on the open front door. I went out into the hall, and there was my little sister with a sleeping toddler in her arms and a nervous smile on her face. Bianca really was in my house, she really stood in my hallway - with her son. I was finally about to confront the final piece to the past I hadn’t wanted to deal with for so long. My knees felt weak and every part of me wanted to turn and run to hide in my bed, but she deserved more than that; she deserved to get the answers to any questions she might have.

“Come in! Will he be okay on the sofa? Or do you want to put him upstairs? He can sleep on my bed?” I was avoiding looking at him, certain that he was roughly the same age as Bianca had been the last time I saw her, certain that he was going to look like her. “Although I think my cat’s up there, is he allergic to cats?”

“He’ll be fine on the sofa, he can sleep anywhere.” Bianca stepped into the house, and I felt relieved that her answer indicated no intention of shouting. I led her into the living room, where Rose and Dee were frantically clearing away food so we could eat it later, and seeing them she said, “Oh! I’m so sorry! I interrupted your tea.”

“Nothing that can’t be reheated or eaten cold, it’s fine,” I said, smiling at Dee and Rose as they looked a little confused why she'd just called our dinner ‘tea’ - bloody Southerners! Pointing at the sofa, I then grabbed a blanket from the box I kept them in to keep them cat-hair free. “Pop little one down there. Would you like a cup of tea?”

I watched as she settled the sleeping boy down, taking off his coat and shoes so he could lie comfortably. As predicted, other than his skin and hair being darker, he looked a lot like she had as a baby and it made my chest ache. Laying down, his chubby cheek smushed against the sofa, and his thumb went into his mouth like hers always did. She placed the blanket over him, and it was like being confronted by the past and the present all at once; my sister who looked a lot like our mother tucking in the child who looked like my sister had. It was overwhelming, and I felt the confidence I had in myself that I was capable of talking with Bianca momentarily falter.

“I would love some tea,” she said, finally answering once she was certain her son was fast asleep. “We’ve been in the car all afternoon, I’m gasping. I was too worried I’d miss you if I went to get myself something.”

Dee had already disappeared to make tea, but thankfully Rose had stayed and was sat on the arm chair, staying quiet unless she was needed.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Finlay, but we call him Finn. This is quietest he’s ever been around new people, prepare to be mauled when he wakes up.” Chuckling, she shrugged off her jacket and made herself comfortable, stretching her legs. “He fell asleep not too long before you got home so he should be out for a little while.”

“He looks like you did when you were that age.”

We smiled at each other, both seemingly desperate not to let things be awkward, but I couldn’t find a natural way to segue into the million questions we both probably wanted to ask without possibly making the niceness uncomfortable. There was a part of me that didn’t even want to ask anything, wanting not to open the Pandora's box of what Bianca thought of me for not fighting to keep us together after Paula died. I just wanted to skip ahead to the part where we could begin to be sisters - if that were at all even possible. I was aware that she could just be after answers about where she had come from, and had no interest in us staying in contact once she got them.

“God, there are so many things I want to say and ask,” Bianca laughed nervously, “I’ve been practising what I was going to say for ages, but now my mind is completely blank.”

Laughing heartily, I was relieved that she was feeling exactly the same way. She’d even had time to prepare for this scenario, while I was completely blindsided, but both of us had no idea what to say first when there was so much to be said.

“How did you find me? I’m happy you did, by the way, I’m really happy.” We both smiled again, and I found myself wishing I could hug her, sad I hadn’t thought to do so before.

“My sister Ivy, she saw you in a magazine talking about your business.” Ignoring how strange it was to think that Bianca had another sister, I looked at Rose and she laughed and shook her head. One time in some magazine that neither of us expected to be that big of a deal to anyone but us, and it resulted in both Harry and my sister coming back into my life. “It’s why I applied for a job there, I just wanted to see you. I didn’t expect to get an interview, but my other half said I had nothing to lose.”

“Oh!” Rose exclaimed. “That’s why I recognise you! Other than, y’know, the fact you look the spitting image of each other.” 

I smiled, “That’s what Vicky said in the office the other day, too.” 

"Did you two meet when she came in the other day?"

Bianca and I nodded and said in unison, "We had the same shoes", before looking at each other and giggling.

From the kitchen, Dee called for Rose and I nodded at her that I was fine to be left. 

We waited for her to leave, and then Bianca spoke again, “I’ve been looking for you for a while, Layla, in fact I’d all but given up when Ivy sent me that picture of you from the magazine. She’d known we were sisters instantly, the name fit and we look so alike that it made sense even to her. I’ve never had people who look like me before, everyone always says Finn looks like his father. It’s nice.”

“If I’d have known you wanted to see me, I promise I would have met you halfway. I didn’t even know if you knew I existed, but I knew you were okay, and I was happy with that.” Finally caving, I felt tears escape and slid down my cheeks. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care, or that I hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. “You’ve always been on my mind.”

She looked close to tears herself, eyes glassy and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, but we both swallowed the emotion as the living room door opened, and Rose wandered in carrying a tray loaded with mugs and a teapot. I didn’t even know I had a teapot!

She set it down on the coffee table, “Tea! I didn’t know how you took yours, Bianca, and thankfully, for someone who doesn’t drink the stuff, Lil has about a million teabags.” Rose turned to me then said, “You had a phone call. From H.”

Harry. I wished he was with me, too, I wished I could hear his voice telling me everything was okay. “Did you answer?”

“We didn’t at first, but Dee did the second time. She’s talking to him now.”

“Okay.” Nodding, I caught a glimpse of something that made my stomach lurch and my body freeze. It was all the confirmation I needed to know for a fact that Bianca was who she was claiming to be. “That ring? Where did you get it?”

A gold, white opal ring on the middle finger of her right hand as she reached for her mug. I’d spent hours looking at it as a child, mesmerised by the colours and telling myself that when I got married I’d have an opal ring. I always thought that opals were prettier than diamonds, and when I got engaged to Will I had explained to him the kind of ring I would like, but Verity had put a stop to that. “Opals are bad luck,” she had said, “it’ll curse the marriage. Which, to be truthful, is already on a path to failure.” As I had done a lot in those days, I’d just smiled and nodded and went along with whatever, thinking she knew best and not having an argument to counter her opinion. However, I’d never forgotten that ring Paula had always worn, and when it disappeared I had assumed she’d sold it for drugs. How was Bianca wearing it?

Bianca looked down at her hand and smiled. She slipped the ring off, and stood up so she could come to place it in my shaking hand. “When I turned eighteen, my mum and dad sat me down and they gave me all my adoption papers. I’d always known I was adopted, and I was told about you and Paula when I was a little bit older and was starting to ask questions about why I was a blonde kid in a house full of people with ginger hair. With the papers was a letter. It was a letter from our grandmother, I have it with me if you’d like to read it. She didn’t know about Paula’s death until two years after it happened, but by that point I was settled with my new family, and you’d already gone to wherever it was you went to. With the letter was this ring.”

“I-I thought Paula had sold it. She wore it all the time and then it was gone.” 

“No, no she never sold it. Do you remember the last time you saw Nana? When Paula fought with her?” I remembered it well. All the shouting, being told by my grandad to go back into the front room where I had been reading, then being dragged out of the house by Paula. I remembered how much I wished I could stay with them instead of going back to Liverpool. Unable to speak as I started to cry, I nodded that I did. “Paula left most of her things behind, including her ring. Nana and Grandad had given it to her on her eighteenth, so she wanted me to have it when I turned eighteen.” 

Bianca started to cry too, and instinctively, I reached and pulled her into a tight hug. If I’d have waited, my grandparents would have found me, too, and maybe my life would have been so different. I’d been too young to know where they lived, or even their full names - other than my grandmother being called Winifred, like my middle name - and Paula hadn’t been so great with her paperwork, so it didn’t surprise me that it had taken that long for them to find out their daughter was dead. I found myself crying for them, for the parents whose daughter had been lost to drugs, and god knows what else. They had loved me, and they loved the granddaughter they probably hadn’t even known about until they found out their daughter was dead, and they’d have probably wanted us both if they had been told sooner. 

Separating, but my sister and I still kept a hand wrapped around the ring in my hand, I sniffed, “Did you ever meet them? Our grandparents.”

“Grandad had died by the time I got the letter, but I have a really vague memory of them coming to visit me when I was little, it wasn’t long after they’d found out about Paula. My parents were always happy for them to visit, but they all agreed it might be too confusing, so they’d just send them letters and school photos.” Bianca wiped her cheeks and smiled, “I did meet Nana, and she’s the reason I started to look for you. My school photos were all framed in their house, hung next to yours.” A fresh wave of emotion hit me. Putting a hand to my mouth, I sobbed as my sister continued, “You were always wanted and loved, Layla, you were never forgotten. Nana wanted to find you.”

“Is she still alive?” Rose asked quietly, asking what I couldn’t manage to say.

“No, she died in early 2016. But I have a letter for you from her.” 

I wanted to stop crying, I wanted to read the letter, and I wanted to know everything Bianca had to tell me, but all I could do was weep. I’d gone through my entire adult life thinking I was alone and unloved, but if I’d have just had the courage to follow my wants, then I would have found that I did have a family who loved me and didn’t hate me for disappearing. They didn’t care that I’d run away, they had just wanted me to come home. But I hadn’t, and now it was too late.


	2. You Were Always On My Mind

Bianca and I talked until Finn woke up from his nap. She told me more about her life, about her growing up, and how lovely her adoptive parents, Irene and Mark, were, and how they’d been completely supportive of her looking into her birth family. She had a brother and sister, Christopher and Ivy, who were twins, and who she was close with. Ivy lived in London, over in New Cross, and that’s who she was staying with. They were a family of teachers, and Bianca herself was going to start training to be a teacher once Finn was old enough to start school full time. She was engaged to Finn’s father, Ellis, and they’d been together since school. **  
**

As she spoke, we sat together on the sofa and held each other’s hand. My grandmother’s letter stayed on my knee unopened, wanting to keep it for when I was alone, and I struggled to believe the whole scenario was real. Bianca talked, and I hoped I didn’t look like I was a weirdo as I studied her face. I could see traces of the baby I’d known, the one who visited my nightmares to repeatedly beg me to do something. I didn’t want to talk about that day with her just yet, but I knew we would eventually. That conversation would come, and it would be painful for both of us.

Finn slept for an hour then woke up, a little confused at being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. At first he was shy and quiet, his big, brown eyes peeking out at us from behind Bianca’s elbow as she encouraged him to say hello. Then, just as she’d warned us, he wanted to explore and signalled to her that he wanted to go down onto the floor, before crawling over to climb up onto Rose’s lap. 

“You don’t mind if I keep him, do you?” Rose chuckled, visibly melting over having been chosen for his attention. She looked up at Dee who was equally as heart eyed and ready to walk out with my nephew. “You distract them, and I’ll make a run for the door.”

Bianca let out a laugh, an exhausted mother laugh, and shook her head, “Please do! I don’t think I’ve slept a full six hours in two years, so by all means. I would want him back eventually, though.”

What struck me as we sat in my living room was that everything was so strangely… normal. When Finn started to complain about being hungry, I made him some tinned spaghetti on toast, then we all sat in the kitchen together while Bianca fed him. The four of us talked like we were all old friends; Bianca had a typical Liverpudlian sense of humour that was quick and witty, and she was so interesting and intelligent. I was fascinated by her and it didn’t feel like we hadn’t grown up together. In fact, I instantly felt bonded to her, and I hoped she felt the same for me too.

Her life had been a good one, and that radiated off her. She’d had what I’d wanted for her the day I told all the worried adults - who thought we’d be inseparable after such a traumatic time - that I didn’t want her to be with me. It had been agony to push her away when I’d spent so long promising to always keep her safe, but I had wanted her to have a safe and happy life that wasn’t tainted by me or Paula. As I watched and listened to her talk and joke around with a smile that was free and happy, it made the agony worthwhile. She could hate me if she wanted to when I told her everything, but I had made the right decision for her.

Shortly before nine, Bianca and Finn left. My nephew had gone from adorable to grumpy in a matter of minutes, and his bed was calling after a busy evening of winning the hearts of three new people. I went out to the car with them so Bianca could get him settled in his car seat, and then we said our goodbyes. We’d already agreed that we would see each other again soon, and I promised that I would make sure we had enough time to talk over everything we both needed to say. We swapped numbers, and then hugged tightly, neither one of us quite ready to say goodbye again so soon after finding each other.

“Have a safe journey home tomorrow,” I sniffed, the water works starting again as I stepped back so she could get into the driver’s seat. “Will you let me know you got there okay?”

Bianca nodded, wiping the fresh tears that spilled down her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. “Of course. I’m sorry if I ruined your evening.”

Bottom lip wobbling, I chuckled and shook my head. “Not at all. Quite the opposite.” 

Grinning at each other, she closed the door, and waved goodbye before starting the car. We waved again as she drove off, and I watched her little blue car until it reached the end of the road and turned out of sight. I looked down at my right hand, down at the opal ring on my finger Bianca had insisted belonged to me, and I gave into the need to cry. 

_My dearest, darling, Layla,_

_I write this letter hoping that it finds you well, and that we’re together when you read it. I hope we will be sat side by side, with Bianca, and I can tell you all the things I’ve wanted to tell you for almost twenty years. But, my father lived by the ethos of ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst’, and as I grow older and sicker, I have to prepare for the worst and accept that we might be too late._

_Layla, from the moment you came into the world, in the very room I gave birth to your mother, I have loved you. You are my first grandchild, and I saw your purple, little face, your fist in your mouth and looking thoroughly displeased at all the commotion, before letting out an almighty cry, and I felt a love for you like I hadn’t felt since the first time I saw Paula. I gave you your first bath, I got up at night to feed and change you so Paula could sleep, I spent the first year of your life looking after you like you were my own daughter. Your grandfather and I were completely bereft the day Paula moved back to Liverpool, our house felt empty and old, and we would always look forward to you coming to visit._

_I wish every day that we’d stopped her from taking you the last day we saw you. I wish we’d chased after her and convinced her to let you stay with us, because she was already past saving at that point, but you were not. It breaks my heart that we couldn’t save her, and that she wouldn’t let us be there for her. My dear, I can’t begin to imagine all the things you went through, and I am filled with a constant regret that we didn’t find you sooner and keep you safe. I hope you know that had we known Paula had died sooner, that there wouldn’t have been a question of if you should come live with us. Your grandfather and I loved you so very much, and we missed you every day. There wasn’t a day that went by that we didn’t talk about you, or wonder where you were and how you were doing. Even up to the last he was alive, we spoke about you and he asked me to keep trying to find you. But neither one of us really knew where to start, until Bianca came into my life when she turned eighteen. She has been a blessing, and she has eased the pain of losing your mother, your grandfather, and you._

_However, other than some clues as to where you were that lead nowhere, the search feels hopeless. I can at this point only hope that you are having a good and happy life. I hope you are loved, and surrounded by good people who care for you and support you. I pray that the things you went through haven’t held you back, and I hope that you know that you still have family who love you and miss you. I also hope that you know that Paula loved you very much, that she never regretted having you or keeping you, that the choices she made were because she was scared and lonely. I had reached a point where I felt like I didn’t know my own daughter anymore, she had become unrecognisable in her appearance and her behaviour, but I always knew that she loved you more than anything. Or at least, I have to tell myself that, because otherwise the anger towards her becomes so overwhelming that my heart breaks all over again. The daughter I knew, the one who tucked her teddies and dolls into bed every night, the one who cried for a solid hour after seeing Bambi, she could never do the things she ended up doing. She cried with joy the first time she held you, and I can’t allow myself to believe that anyone who wasn’t lost to sickness would put you in the harm that she did. She loved you both, Layla, she really did, I just wished she had made better choices so you knew that for certain._

_You are in my prayers every night, my darling, and I pray that we can find you soon and that we can be a family again. Bianca is trying so hard to find you, she wants her sister back just as much as I want my first granddaughter back. We love you, and we can’t wait for you to be sitting with us as we drink tea in the garden. Do you remember helping Grandad with the flowers? We then all sat on a blanket and had a picnic, and he made you laugh so much doing silly voices and pulling funny faces._

_I love you, sweetheart,_

_Granny xxx_

I was glad I’d saved the letter for when I was alone. I cried loud, hiccuping sobs that startled Stan and caused him to sit up and look at me with wide eyes. As he slowly made his way up the bed to sit next to my knee, I reached for my phone and called Harry. I needed to hear his voice, and I needed to feel his love.

“Baby? Are you okay? What happened?” Seeing his face and hearing his voice on the other end of the phone only made me cry harder and make me wish he was with me. Thankfully, he didn’t demand any explanations when I continued to sob instead of trying to talk, he just let me cry and reassured me that everything was okay.

The day felt so bittersweet. My sister had turned up on my doorstep, seemingly interested in having a relationship with me, but then I found myself mourning for grandparents I had long thought had no interest in me. I had sat in the bedroom of my foster parents’ house thinking that my granny and granddad hadn’t wanted me, certain that they did already know about Paula but had told the social workers they had no interest in me, I’d just thought everyone was trying to save my already shattered feelings by not saying anything. I had been angry with them, but I had also accepted it because I hadn’t really wanted me either. I would wonder if maybe Bianca was with them, breaking my own heart as I pictured them being happy together, but I’d push it all down and think about how I was going to get away from Liverpool. I hadn’t really considered until I was older that perhaps they hadn’t known about Paula’s death, but by that point I was too afraid to find them, too afraid to know for certain if they were still alive, and if Bianca was with them. 

But now I knew. I knew that they had wanted me, that they had loved me, that I had missed out on a life with them or at least finding them again. The nasty, ugly thoughts of depression were beginning to crawl from their hole, telling me that I would always just miss out on happiness, that even the days of my relationship with Harry were numbered. I felt destined to always have happiness snatched away from me, like it had been when Paula had been clean whilst she was with the man we all thought was Bianca’s father, like it had when I was married to Will and I thought he was going to be my knight in shining armour, like it had been when I fell in love with Harry and he broke my heart. Rose, and the business, were the only things that had ever been real, pure happiness for me, but now I worried for those, too.

“I wish you were here,” I whimpered, putting my head in my hand. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I was there, too, baby. Come on, take some deep breaths.” Doing as I was told, I took slow, measured breaths until I finally began to feel calmer and regained some composure. Once the tears fell silent, and all that was left was red eyes and sniffles, Harry said, quietly, “What happened? Is it really her?”

“Yeah, it’s her. It went… it was fine, I think. She was really nice, and…” I paused as my throat tightened again, and hot tears blurred my vision until I wiped them away. “She has a little boy called Finn.”

“You’re an aunty?” Harry smiled, encouraging me to see the positives. “Aunty Lil!”

Chuckling, liking how it sounded, I nodded, “I am! He’s so adorable, H, you’ll love him. She also gave me a letter, that’s why I called in a mess. It’s from my grandmother.”

“What did it say?”

I opened my mouth to tell him, but the emotion was too overwhelming. Instead, I shook my head, “You can read it when you get home, I don’t think I can tell you without bawling my eyes out again.”

“You don’t have to worry about crying in front of me, Lil, but of course you don’t have to tell me if it will upset you too much. Do you think you’ll see Bianca again soon?”

“I think so, I hope so. She’s travelling back to Liverpool tomorrow, but we’re going to work out when she can come to visit again so we can talk. She’s been here all weekend waiting for me, but, as you know, I was away.” Letting out a long sigh, I wondered what would have happened if I’d have decided to stay with Harry longer, which I nearly had done. “It’s so strange, H, she looks just like me. We really look like sisters.”

Harry’s smile was soft, “I’m so happy for you, Lil. I can’t wait to meet her, and Finn, too. I guess this explains why you had that dream about her the other night.”

For a second I was slightly dumbfounded. I remembered the nightmare I’d had in Milan, the one I usually had about the death of my mother and the last time I saw my sister. I hadn’t had it for so long, and I’d never had it in front of Harry before, so it had left me rattled and confused as to why it was rearing its ugly head again. But I’d had Harry to comfort and distract me. He had made me forget the nightmare to the point that I hadn’t instantly connected the dream to Bianca turning up.

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” I whispered. 

“But are you okay? I’ve been driving mum up the wall worrying about you.” Harry ran his free hand through his hair, sitting back in his bed. “She sends her love, by the way, and she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Send my love back, and tell her I’m looking forward to it, too.”

“You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

“One thousand percent.”

Harry laughed and my tummy fluttered with adoration. “She’s nervous as well, don’t worry.” 

The one silver lining was that if ever there was something to distract from how terrified I was about meeting Harry’s family and friends, it was the arrival of my long lost sister. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked again.

This time I actually answered. “I’m okay. Still in shock, I think, and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen. I’m hoping that a good night’s sleep will give me a clear head and I’ll wake up tomorrow with more of an idea of what to do next. I want to see her again soon, I do know that.”

“Then you already know what to do, baby.”

We talked for a little while longer, and I got myself comfortable in bed as he told me about his day. Listening to his low, sleepy voice, I felt some semblance of peace again and I couldn’t wait until we could lay in bed together. The normality of our conversation was soothing and calming; he was excited to play his home shows, he liked being with Anne and the cats, and - other than worrying about me - he’d had a relaxing evening spending some much needed time with her. 

I felt much calmer after we said a reluctant good night. I got up to brush my teeth, then climbed back into bed and curled up with a purring Stan. I was so drained by the events of the day, that I fell asleep much faster than I thought I would.

I dreamt of Harry and Italy, of delicious food and luxurious rooms, but then the luxury was replaced with all the tell tale signs of a nightmare and time I knew all too well. At first I felt the panic as I slid into the past I couldn’t escape, I could smell the filth of an unclean flat, the bright sunbeam was making its usual journey around the room, and there was the stillness of a moment frozen while the world continued outside. But then I noticed that there was no smell of death, the sunbeam wasn’t leading my gaze to Paula’s dead body, and I couldn’t hear Bianca crying. Instead, my baby sister was sitting in the middle of the room with me, and we were playing together. She would occasionally morph into Finn, and there was still the fear that the moment would change, but for the most part, it was just her and I.


	3. Coming Home

Work was a welcomed distraction from thinking too much about Bianca. We’d exchanged a few messages and added each other on whichever mutual social media we had, so things were going smoothly, but I couldn’t stop worrying over the inevitable conversation we would have about Paula. Her parents and our Grandmother didn’t really know much about what happened in the year leading up to our mother’s death. I’d been too used to keeping the front that everything was normal that everything they knew was what the police and social services had figured out for themselves. I hadn’t told them anything. But she deserved to know, if she wanted to hear it.

I was deep in a sea of numbers, losing the will to live as I signed off the monthly staffing payroll, when there was a knock on the office door. I looked up as it opened, and Vicky poked her head in with a look of excitement on her face which was very unlike her.

“Sorry to interrupt, Lil,” she said, face splitting into a full on grin, “but there’s someone here to see you.”

My first thought -as it usually did since she’d turned up on my doorstep- went to Bianca. “Who is it?”

“Uh… it’s Harry Styles.”

Harry. Of course. He had his two London shows so I knew he was coming home, but I hadn’t expected to see him until I’d finished work. He had come to the office to see me, and I was going to have to pretend like he was just a client, and like I didn’t want to climb all over him.

“Oh… uh, right. Do I look okay?” I asked, standing up and smoothing down my dress. “I must have forgotten he was coming in.”

“You forgot that one of the most famous men in the world was going to come in today? The same man who never accepts any of our invitations?” Vicky asked sceptically, before asking with a smirk, “or is this a social visit?”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Victoria, but Harry’s an old friend. He works with Will and Terry a lot.” Realising I was sounding extremely guilty and defensive, I chuckled, “I don’t really know why he’s here, I’m just glad to get out of doing payroll for a little while.”

I could see Harry stood by our reception desk as soon as I walked out of the office, and I could also see every one of my staff craning their necks from their computers to get a look at him. He was dressed casually like he’d been to the gym - or was on his way - and wore a black wooly hat with a few curls poking out here and there. I had been so caught up in everything with Bianca that the overwhelming love I felt for Harry had taken a bit of a backseat while he was away, but seeing him in person, looking so deliciously cosy and comfortable, that the love hit me like a frying pan to the face.

“You left him in reception?” I asked Vicky, surprised she didn’t take him to our meeting room like we usually did when a client came in. Harry was happily chatting away with our receptionist, Elena, and although I knew everybody I worked with was professional enough to not ask for a photograph, I did worry someone would sneak one whilst he was unaware.

Vicky grimaced, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

I laughed and shook my head at her, placing an affectionate arm around her shoulders. She was usually so unphased by any of our celebrity visitors that it was nice to see her temporarily discombobulated a little. “Don’t worry about it, but can you just tell everyone not to say he was here? Or if they can at least wait until after he’s gone?”

“Of course. The meeting room’s ready, I’ll bring in refreshments. What's he doing here? ”

“Perfect, thank you. I have no idea, perhaps he was just in the area.” Harry looked up as we approached, and he smiled at me naughtily, expecting to be told off for coming to see me at my workplace. Once upon a time, he would have been right to expect a reprimanding, but those days were gone and I was just happy to see him. “Hello Mr. Styles, what a lovely surprise. How are you?”

“Hello Ms. James, I am very good, thank you. And yourself?" We shook hands as we exchanged pleasantries, and I spotted the ring he’d pilfered from me on his little finger. Just feeling the warmth of his hand in mine made desire flare in my stomach. I wanted to feel his whole body against mine, and I wanted to kiss him properly, but all we could do for the moment was remain professional and give each other a polite, platonic peck on the cheek. "I hope it’s okay that I stopped by unannounced? I was in the neighbourhood and wondered if we could talk? If you're busy I can come back another time, or wait…”

“No, don't be silly. I’m sure we can fit you in.”

Momentarily forgetting where we were and who we were with, we held onto each other's hand and smiled like lovesick teens. I had missed seeing his smile outside of a grainy, pixelated video call. It was only when Vicky gave a polite little cough that we were reminded of the curious eyes on us. Harry and I were definitely out of practice when it came to pretending we were nothing more than casual acquaintances.

"Would you like anything to drink, Harry? Tea? Coffee? Water?" Vicky asked after flashing me a smirk. "Something stronger?"

Harry let go of my hand and stroked it over the light scruff on his jaw to hide that he was blushing slightly. "Water would be great, thank you."

"Let me give you a tour!" I suggested, suddenly, eager to get away from Vicky's unsubtle glances that hinted she thought something was going on. "Thank you, Victoria! "

Leading Harry away, I turned back to Vicky and scowled at her as she gave me two thumbs up and an over-emphatic wink. The girl didn't miss a trick!

"This place is amazing, Lil," Harry said as he looked around at the large, open-plan space. He then turned to me and quietly said, "Is it really okay that I came to see you? I just couldn't wait until later."

"It's perfectly fine, I promise. You've brightened up mine, and everybody else's day."

More smiles and a light nudge of the elbow temporarily replaced the kiss I wanted to give him. I appreciated his concern - especially considering our history of him turning up places he shouldn’t just to see me - but his arrival was just what I needed after the week I’d had. I didn’t think we were quite ready for the people I worked with to know about our relationship, but I saw no harm in him visiting me, or even in them quietly speculating why he was coming to the office when he wasn’t a client.

We kept the conversation professional as I showed him around. Everyone mostly worked in the same space, and it was just Rose and I in one room, and Vicky in another office, which she shared with Gabby who ran our social media. We then had a large boardroom where we would have planning meetings, and a smaller meeting room which we used when clients came in. There was then a couple of storage rooms, a break room, and locked room for important documents and files. Harry made all the right noises and asked all the right questions as I explained what the company did, nodding with interest and seeming to genuinely care what I was saying. He said hello to everyone as we passed by on our way to the meeting room, and they all responded with enthusiastic hellos in return.

"I've never seen them so well behaved, Harry," I teased loudly, opening the door to the smaller meeting room, "you can come again."

Normally my joke would have garnered some protests and at least one middle finger in my direction, but proving my point beautifully, all I got was groans and eye-rolls.

Harry was smiling at me when I closed the door behind me and we were alone. My cheeks grew warm under his gaze, but he remained silent until I moved closer to him.

Reaching for my hand, he asked, "Can I kiss you properly yet?"

"Just wait for Vicky to bring your water first." Harry nodded and looked down at our linked fingers, still smiling. "What are you looking so pleased about?"

"You. This place. How well you're doing, and how much you've changed since we first met. Seeing you being Boss Layla just makes me realise how much you've grown, and I'm proud of you." The week had been emotionally draining, and everything had the potential to make me cry. Hearing Harry tell me he was proud of me instantly brought tears to my eyes. "What's wrong? Did I say some-"

Exhaling so I didn't erupt into full blown sobs, I blinked away the tears and shook my head as I quickly reassured him. "No! It's been a rough week and I'm being stupid. Thank you, I'm glad you're here and get to see mine and Rose's baby for yourself."

There was a quiet knock on the door, and I stepped away from Harry just as the door slowly opened. Vicky looked momentarily disappointed that she hadn't caught Harry and I in a state of undress, but quickly smiled as she brought in a jug of water and some glasses. I knew full well that on any other occasion she would have asked one of the others to bring Harry's drink, but she was trying to work out if her suspicions were correct. I was trying to pretend she was wrong, but deep down I was impressed by how quickly she'd cottoned on.

"Anything else?" Vicky asked, placing the items down in the middle of the large, circular table.

"We're all good, thanks Vic!" I said, once Harry had shook his head and thanked her.

She left with a "be good, you two!" then closed the door behind her, beaming a cheesy grin. I was probably going to have to have a conversation about professionalism in front of clients, but I realised that Harry and I probably weren't fooling anyone. Especially when Vicky had helped Rose set up Harry's tour party behind my back, had known that I went to Milan apparently all by myself, and had seen the barely concealed heart eyes out in the reception. Vicky was the epitome of professional, but she knew Harry wasn't just a client.

Quickly locking the door so we wouldn't be disturbed, Harry was already making his way to me when I turned back around. He pressed his whole body against me until my back was against the door. Tilting his head, he brushed his lips over mine.

"Okay, can I kiss you properly now?" He said. "It's been killing me having to wait."

Smiling, I gave a nod and leaned in close as he kissed me. For a few moments I let all the worries of the previous two weeks fade away, and all that mattered was Harry and I getting to be together. His warmth, his touch, the quiet moan he let out when I ran my fingers through his hair and sent his hat to the floor - it was all I needed to forget all the things that had been troubling me. Harry had once again become my happy place.

Our kiss grew more heated as each second passed. There was a voice telling me I should know better and that I should remain professional in the place where I worked, but Harry's wandering hands were persuading me to do otherwise. Our relationship was new and fresh, our sex ban had been lifted, and we were alone in a locked room, the temptation was too much. I also reminded myself that Rose and Dee had had sex in the office we actually shared shortly after we leased the building, she had no place to judge me.

“I wanna bend you over that table,” Harry mumbled, trailing his mouth from my lips, along my jaw, and down to my neck.

Jutting my hips forward to meet his, I hoped he'd get my hint that I wanted him to do just that to me. “You’re going to get me in trouble, Mr. Styles.”

"You won’t get into trouble for making one of your prospective clients happy,” he chuckled. “Besides, we had sex in my workplace, it’s only fair we do the same in yours.”

Moving from the door, we exchanged words of love and happiness at being reunited again. As we reached the table, Harry began to turn me around so he could stand behind me, but while one hand went to my cheek so we could continue to kiss each other, the other travelled down to the waistband of my trousers. He plucked open the top button, and as he slid the zip down and his fingers disappeared into my panties, I thanked the heavens I’d put on cute underwear that morning despite thinking I would be seeing in him later. Had he shown up a day earlier, and he would have found the novelty knickers Dee had got me - which had ‘The Future Mrs Styles’ emblazoned across the back, because everyone in my life thinks they’re a bloody comedian! - because I’d fallen behind on my washing. Thankfully, he was met with pink and black lace, instead.

Harry moaned into my mouth when I reached behind me and found he was already rock hard. His kiss became increasingly furtive as I palmed his erection, and his hand sank deeper into my underwear, fingers curving until the tips sat at my entrance. I rolled my hips in response, urging him for more as the ache for him grew almost unbearable, but he simply dipped into me then moved his focus to my clit.

His touch was delicious, and kissing him was equally so. Getting in trouble would almost be worth it.

“I want... to... scream,” I whispered, voice trembling with every stroke of the pads of his finger over my hub of nerves. “You make me feel so good… I-I could… scream.”

Harry’s smile was verging on smug as he kissed me. He liked when I complimented or praised him, and now we could speak freely about how we felt, the compliments and praise seemed to mean so much more. They weren’t just dirty words spoken in the moment of lust or passion, he knew I meant them, and that seemed to encourage him more.

“Maybe I should stop now? Just in case you do scream,” he chuckled, as a loud whimper slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “I quite like the idea of leaving you wet and a little needy for the rest of the afternoon.”

“You don’t want to stop, and I know that for a fact.” Feeling around, I found the tie on his sweatpants, and pulled it undone so I could reach my hand inside and wrap it around his cock. I began to stroke him, my palm gliding up and down over the solid, silky smooth skin. Leaning my head back onto his shoulder, I asked, “You want me to stop now, baby?”

Eyes falling half closed, Harry shook his head slowly, before letting out a long, blissful groan. “Fuck, Lil, I need you so much.”

Using his free hand, he started to tug at my trousers and panties until they sat around my thighs. Feeling the cool, office air on my behind, I once again questioned if I should be having sex in work, and if maybe it was me who should bring things to a halt. But when I felt that same air hit the hand still wrapped around Harry’s length as he pulled down his own bottoms, and he shifted closer so I could feel him hard and ready against my heat, any plans to stop him faded. Instead, I leaned forward, placed both hands flat against the wooden top of the table in front of me so I was steady, and pushed back against him.

Harry was just beginning to push into me, when there was a loud, demanding knock on the door, causing us both to freeze in panic.

“Layla?” Rose’s voice clearly indicated that she knew exactly what was going on in the office, and the door being locked as she rattled the handle to try open it only confirmed what she suspected. But she wasn’t showing any signs of retreating and letting us get on with it. Loudly, she asked, “You in there? Why’s the door locked?”

“Just a minute!” I called, trying not to sound like I was close to weeping as Harry pulled away from me. We both rushed to make ourselves look decent, and Harry sat down to hide his boner, then I went to answer the door. I smiled sweetly and innocently as I opened it, met with Rose who looked at me like a disappointed mother. “Sorry, I think I must have locked it by accident. Look who’s here, Rose, it's Harry!”

“Hello, Miss Fullerton,” Harry smiled as sweetly as I had, though he didn’t get up to greet her. “Miss James was just giving me a tour of the office.”

She looked at both of us, enjoying making us squirm under her inquisitive gaze, then reached out to untuck the back of my blouse which I had tucked into my underwear instead of my trousers and was sat above my waistband. Harry and I erupted into guilty, childish giggles, while my best friend shook her head.

“You two are bloody disgusting! We have meetings in here!” she groaned, feigning real disgust. “Also, Vicky’s onto you, so you might want to be careful.”

Settling my laughter and going to stand next to Harry, - who I noticed, despite his laughter, was blushing - I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know, but she thought I was sleeping with Xavier a few weeks ago, so I’m not too worried.”

Rose nodded that I had a point, then cleared her throat, “Right, well, I'll leave you two to it. Just… please don't have sex in here.”

“Shall I tell Harry about what you did the night before we moved in?”

She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, while Harry started to laugh, “Tell me! What did she do?”

Pointing at me, Rose tried her best not to laugh, “Bird, don't you dare!”

Looking at Harry, I winked at him and mouthed, “I'll tell you later.”


	4. Golden Hour

Harry and I were doing terribly at not hiding away on our dates. We had originally planned to go out to dinner, but when I’d let him know that my early finish would be a little later than planned because of a client meeting overrunning, we were both quick to say a night in would be preferable anyway. The truth was that I liked when it was just the two of us, that part had never been the problem, what I’d hated was that we never had the choice to go anywhere but a hotel room. Now that we did, however, it didn’t feel so important. There were plenty of other ways we were no longer hiding away, and along with it being the only night we would have together to ourselves, I was happy to stay at home.

I was on Harry as soon as he was within reach. His desire to leave me sexually frustrated all afternoon had come to fruition, so I could only think of one thing as I’d driven to his. Dropping my bags to the floor, I slid my arms around his neck, and pressed a promising kiss to his lips.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to have dinner and talk,” he laughed between kisses, wrapping his hold around my waist and pulling me up against him, “but I’m guessing that’s a no?”

Starting to walk us in the direction of the stairs, I shrugged off my jacket and let it fall behind me. “Later. I want you, and I want bed first.”

We raced up to his room, holding hands and giggling with excitement in-between pauses to kiss. As soon as we burst through his bedroom door, clothes began to fly in our eagerness to shed them. Parting so we could both remove the bottom half of our attire, I was just about to take off my shoes when Harry cleared his throat and pointed at them.

“Leave them on,” he smirked, eyeing the high, patent black heels. 

Meeting during the daytime, wearing nothing but lingerie and high heels, and laying on the bed making out with Harry; I felt like I’d gone back in time and we were in the early days of our relationship. Except, this time, we were doing it all right. I hadn’t had to sneak away or lie about where I was going (okay, so that wasn’t quite true, I’d told Vicky I had a dentist appointment), we were in Harry’s bed and not in some hotel, and we had nowhere to rush off to after. I was even staying the night and heading to work directly from his place. This evening truly felt like the real beginning to our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend.

We just kissed for a while, having rediscovered how good it was to just kiss while we were on our sex ban. Hands roamed and caressed over each other’s half-naked bodies, fingers brushing over skin with a feather-light touch that elicited shivers from both of us. I’d missed how warm he was to the touch, the vague taste of mint on his tongue from the gum he’d no doubt been chewing before I arrived, and the sweet sound of his quiet moans as he tried to pull me even closer than I already was.

“I’ve been cursing Rose all afternoon,” Harry mumbled, palm running down to my behind so he could drag my leg up over his soft hip. “You looked so good being the boss, and I wanted you so bad.”

Pushing forward, I rolled us until I was above him, sat astride his thighs. He looked breathtaking beneath me; his growing hair wild and untamed, his face stubbly, and cheeks already slightly flushed. He watched intently as I sat up and stroked my hand along his clearly visible hard cock, feeling him twitch against my palm under his white briefs. His eyes darkened as he placed his hands on my waist and rolled his hips, urging for more of my touch. Taking great pleasure in teasing him, I ignored his needs and instead began to lower the straps of my bra off of my shoulders. 

“Did you come home and touch yourself, baby?” I asked, enjoying the way Harry’s gaze followed as I removed my bra and casually tossed it behind me. “Or were you good and waited for me?”

With a lick of his bottom lip, Harry sat up and moved his hands down to grip my behind, pulling my lower-half tight against his erection. As he leaned up to kiss me, he muttered, “I thought about it, but I saved it all for you.”

The groan I let slip as a jolt of desire shot down to between my legs was involuntary. Swearing under my breath, I crushed my lips against his, hard, and raised up so he could hook a finger around the centre of my panties to pull them to one side. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I lowered down on him, pulling away from Harry’s kiss just enough to see his eyelids slowly fall closed, and a deliciously satisfied smile curve the corners of his mouth.

Sitting on him fully, the stretching fullness was always a small surprise, and took a second to adjust to. I wondered if he could read that thought from the look on my face, as the smile on his lips turned less blissful and became a little more smug. 

I rolled my hips slowly and asked, “Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re always worth the wait.” Voice low and his lips kissing down my jaw and neck, his words rumbled against my skin. “I take back what I said about Rose. This is a much better way to have you.”

Placing a hand on my hip, Harry set the pace to keep him from coming too soon. Not too slow and not too fast, we moved together just right. As he lay back - resting on one elbow - he looked up at me with a look that could only be described as wonderment. I wondered if he had always looked at me in such an unabashed manner, or if he just felt more comfortable to do so now. Either way, I liked it, and I liked how it made me feel comfortable to do the same. Every time we were together, it seemed like we were growing closer and closer, and truly getting to know each other outside of the ideas of people we’d known years before. 

“Fuck! I love you so much,” I mumbled, hazily, making Harry smile from ear to ear.

Shedding all restraint, I rocked back and forth and felt sweat prickle at my brow, Harry’s moans and groans encouraging me to keep going. My mind went almost completely blank as I pressed my palm against the butterfly tattoo on his stomach to keep myself up as my accidentally delayed orgasm from earlier finally came into view. As my free hand palmed at my own breast, I felt the tingling which had slowly spread through me reach its crescendo, and I felt an almighty release that almost sent me toppling over. 

For the first time since coming back from Italy, my thoughts weren’t occupied by how angry Joel was, or by Bianca, or by my grandmother’s letter. I was completely focused on Harry and I, breathing him in, losing myself in his sweet kisses. We were safe in our bubble, where the only thing that mattered for the rest of the evening was just us.

Laying in bed together was blissful. The room was bathed in an early evening glow, painting the walls with a peachy-pink gold colour that promised Summer was just around the corner. We kissed and cuddled as we quietly talked, discussing what we were going to have for dinner when we could be bothered to leave the warmth of his bed, but then the conversation finally lulled and he finally asked about Bianca. We hadn’t really spoken much about her or the letter from my grandmother since the first night she’d shown up, I had wanted to save it for when he could physically comfort me, but I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Harry and I only had a short time together, that I didn't want to taint any of it with me crying.

Sensing my reluctance when he asked if I’d heard from my sister, he kissed the tip of my nose and said gently, “I want you to talk about this with me, Lil, please don’t keep this to yourself.”

“I’m not,” I sighed, though that was exactly what I had planned on doing, “I’m still in shock, I think. We’ve messaged a few times, but every time her name pops up on the screen, I can’t actually believe it’s her.” I idly stroked Harry’s arm and enjoyed as little goosebumps appeared under my fingers. “I haven’t even told Will and Terry, yet. I think a part of me worries that if I talk about her too much it’ll turn sour.”

“You’re allowed to feel happy about this, baby, and you should feel excited! I’m sure if she had any negative feelings toward you, then you would have known right away.”

“I guess. But I am excited though. I’m looking forward to seeing her again, and getting to know her and my nephew better.”

“Is that the ring?” Harry asked, lifting my hand so he could take a closer look at the opal ring that had once belonged to my mother. “It looks beautiful on you.”

“Thank you.” Shifting closer to him, he let go of my hand and let his come to a rest on my thigh. “Just so you know, you’re not getting your thieving mitts on this one, Mr Magpie.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened as he laughed, looking down at his fingers and unable to act innocent when he was clearly wearing the ring he had taken from my dressing table. 

Laughter subsiding, for a little while we remained silent. There was no need to say or do anything, we had nowhere we needed to be, and nobody would be interrupting us. I was reminded of a saying a teacher had told when I was in school, that if a room fell silent at a quarter to or quarter past, it meant an angel was passing through. I couldn’t see what time it was, and I didn’t know if I entirely believed in angels, but there was such a feeling of serenity between us that the whole idea didn’t seem so stupid anymore. 

“I love you,” Harry eventually whispered. “I know this is probably a lot to deal with, and it’s all a bit overwhelming, but I’m so happy for you. I honestly think this is all going to be okay.”

It dawned on me that I had fallen back into an old habit of wallowing and expecting the worst. I didn’t want to be that way again, I wanted to be happy that Bianca was in my life again, I wanted to be confident that Harry and I were really going to make it this time, I wanted to turn the negatives in my life and turn them into positives. I had plenty of good things going on and I had to remember that.

“I love you, too.” Leaning up and touching Harry’s cheek, I kissed him. 

The kiss was soft and tender, but grew into something much needier as I pulled him so he moved to settle between my thighs. Feeling him growing hard again, I wrapped my legs around his waist and sighed happily at the weight of him on top of my body. I felt the sweet push of his cock sliding into me, and we both let out moans of delight at being connected again so soon after the last time. 

Dinner and everything else would have to wait.

We finally managed to tear ourselves away from bed when the bedroom was close to pitch black, and we could no longer see each other. Downstairs, Harry found whatever food he had that was the easiest to make, then we sat at the kitchen table to eat while he read my grandmother’s letter. 

Harry quickly abandoned his food as he read, choosing instead to place the hand he had been holding his fork with on my knee and squeezing it gently. After all the things we had experienced together, this one somehow felt like the most intimate. I hadn’t even let Rose read the letter (though that was mainly down to not having the time or opportunity), so him reading it as we sat close together in his kitchen felt incredibly personal. It was yet another moment where I lowered my barrier and let him in.

“Wow,” he said quietly when he’d finished reading. “I’m… I really don’t know what to say to you, Lil. I’m just so sorry you never got to see her again.”

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I could only nod and hum in response, fearful that I would once again begin to bawl if I opened my mouth to speak. It had been eating me up for days, the ache of unfairness almost unbearable as I tried to find positives in the letter. I had the good people and the happy life she had wanted for me, I had even forgiven Paula, but none of it seemed to ease the pain of missing out on reestablishing a relationship with my grandmother. 

Placing the pages down onto the table, Harry picked up the photographs that had also been in the envelope. She’d put in pictures of her and Granddad on their wedding day, some of my mother as a child, but mostly they were of me. There were a couple of me as newborn, dressed in various baby grows, there was a gap-toothed school photo, Christmasses, and family holidays to the beach where I was a chubby toddler in Summer dresses and matching hats. Granny had written dates on the back of all of them, adding little details she remembered in a shaky scrawl that made her feel less distant to me.

The one in Harry’s hand was of my grandparents, Paula, and me at the beach, and on the back it read - ‘Pwllheli, North Wales - 1988. Me, Arthur, Paula, and Layla. Layla and I built sandcastles, then she nearly got stung by a jellyfish because she tried to eat it. Beautiful weather, lots of laughter, our last holiday together.’

Harry laughed as he read her comment, before turning the picture back over to look at it, peering at it closely. “You’re so little! I can totally tell that it’s you, though.”

“It’s the dimples.”

“It is! Sweet little Layla, playing in the sand and trying to eat jellyfish.” 

I giggled as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed my forehead. “I don’t have anything from my childhood, other than the blurry picture of my mum I have in my living room. It’s nice to have these, remind myself that it hadn’t been doom and gloom the whole time. It’s what finally convinced me it wasn't all some weird coincidence, that Bianca wasn't actually looking for a different Layla James from Liverpool. I look at those pictures and they match up with memories I have, that for a long time I couldn’t really tell if they were just dreams I’d had as a kid and thought were real. I remember that holiday, I remember the seaside and putting little flags in the sandcastles with Granny, I remember paddling in the sea with Paula.”

Harry’s smile was warm and loving as he turned on the long bench we sat on, “They were real, and you were obviously very loved and missed. I can’t imagine how sad you must feel about not getting to see her again, but your gran loved you so much, and you have the chance to make up for that by maybe building a relationship with Bianca.”

Tears had begun to run down my cheek, but they were happy ones as I realised that there was plenty of happiness to take from the letter and the pictures, even if it wasn’t the kind that I wanted. I had opened up to Harry about my past, and I could clearly see that it was a good thing to do. There were lots of things I had missed out on, but Bianca had, too. She had no happy memories with her birth family, just the knowledge that something terrible had happened that caused her sister to push her way. Neither of us had won, we had both lost out on something, but then we were also both lucky in our own way. I had to stop focusing on what I had lost with my grandparents, and look at what I had to gain with Bianca and Finn.

Looking at Harry as he went back to looking at the photographs, he had a wide smile on his face, and he stroked the inside of my knee with his thumb as he read the captions on the back of each picture. Him and Rose were my wins at life. If I hadn’t run away to Ibiza, I would never have met Rose, and I wouldn’t have met Will who led me to Harry. I wished the three people who were in the photograph at the beach with me had had the chance to meet the two people who had gotten me through my darkest times. I wished that I had the kind of life where I hadn’t had to lose one to gain the other, but I was also so grateful for the gifts Rose, Dee, Will, Terry, and Harry were. I just hoped that Bianca and I could also be in each other’s life.

“Y’know what else these pictures have made me realise?” Harry said, startling me slightly as he caught me staring at him.

Moving my leg to sit over his, and closing some of the gap between his face and mine, I asked, “What’s that then?”

“I was right when I said we would have the cutest kids.”


	5. Sweetness

The second night of Harry’s London shows was my first chance to see him perform like I was purely there as his fan. Rose and I headed to the arena straight after work, we met Dee, Terry, and Will there, and then the five of us went for dinner before the show started. I hadn’t even been able to let Harry know we’d arrived because the signal in the dome was so bad I couldn’t send him a message, so I just put my phone away and tried to enjoy myself. 

Over dinner and cocktails I told Will and Terry all about Bianca. They’d known she had turned up, but I hadn’t seen them to fill them in on the details. As I spoke, the couple perfectly demonstrated the antithesis of their personalities as Terry gushed how pleased he was for me, and Will warned that I should be careful. 

“Careful?” Terry furrowed his brow, asking the question we were all thinking but couldn’t express with mouthfuls of food. 

Will held up his hands in innocence, “I’m not trying to say the girl has any malicious intentions, but you don’t know anything about her. Just… just don’t let your emotions blind you.” When I frowned at his words, he reached across the table to touch my shoulder gently, and said in a much softer way, “I’m really happy for you, Lil, I know you’ve wanted this to happen for a long time. I’m just reminding you that sometimes things aren’t all that they seem.”

“I know, I know, and I appreciate the concern.” Smiling at my ex-husband, I knew he knew what Bianca meant to me, and how the nightmares had been for me. I knew they were expecting me to be defensive about what Will was suggesting, but I knew he was looking out for me. “But, she was very sweet, very open and honest, I don’t think there’s any need to be worried.”

There was a notable silence from Dee and Rose, and although they were nodding that they agreed having been there when Bianca had turned up and had met her, I noticed that they weren’t telling Will he was wrong either.

“Well,” Terry said, breaking the silence, “I’m sure you have nothing to be concerned about. But perhaps Will is right, and it wouldn’t do any harm to exercise some caution.”

“I’m not going to be handing over my pin number and bank account details!” I laughed, wondering how stupid they all thought I was. “I get you’re looking out for me, and I love you all for that, but please don’t worry. I’ll be waiting until we talk properly before I fully make any decisions about her.”

There was more silence as my friends nodded, no doubt all having more they wanted to say. But instead, Terry put his arm around me, kissed the top of my head, and then suggested we head into the arena. 

Watching Harry’s show with my friends really did feel like an entirely different experience to Milan. When I’d been standing with Jeff, I’d been consumed by what my boyfriend was singing, by what the lyrics in some of his songs meant to our relationship, and how far we had come since he wrote them. But this night felt like it was more about having fun with my friends while we watched Harry Styles play to the O2 arena. I was fangirl number one. I sang along loudly, I jumped up and down, and I pretended I was just like any other fan who was there to see their favourite musician. 

“I’m losing my voice!” Rose said loudly in my ear as Harry started to talk to the audience, the ringing in my ear showing zero evidence that she was losing her voice. “The morning meeting’s going to be fun tomorrow.”

We both laughed, then looked up at the stage just as Harry was walking in our direction, peering into the crowd.

“I’ve been told there’s someone here I need to talk to!” he said, shielding his eyes from the light to try and see better. “But I can’t see them! Where are you?” 

Everyone started to look around, trying to find who would have Harry's focus for a few minutes. My hand shot up and I waved like crazy, hoping he found us before I had to shout to catch his attention, but thankfully he spotted me before I needed to, and I pointed to Rose and Dee.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, incredulous at my bravery as Harry excitedly told the audience he'd spotted who he was looking for and everyone nearby turned to look in our direction.

"Rose, and… Dionne, is that right?" Harry's mischievous smile was ear to ear as he flexed his acting chops by pretending he didn't know them, just a split second from pretending he was reading their smudged names off his palm. My two friends nodded, and I could see that Rose's hand was shaking as it sank into her pocket, ready for Harry to give the go ahead. "The floor is yours, ladies!"

Rose paused to take a breath, then pulled out a small, square box from out of her pocket as she turned to talk to Dee, hand trembling but ready to ask the big question. She froze as everyone around them gasped then started to cheer, seeing that at exactly the same moment Dee had pulled out the exact same box and was holding it out to her, too. They both stood completely stunned for a moment - letting it dawn on them that they’d unknowingly been planning a joint proposal - then started to laugh.

There were cheers and applause from the whole arena as they quickly exchanged rings and kissed. Harry was watching with a satisfied smile as I gave him a thumbs up, looking thoroughly pleased with himself that our plan had worked perfectly. He was already on a high from catching a thrown sweet in his mouth, so this was just the cherry on top.

Rose and Dee turned and showed him their new ring-clad hands, and he shouted, “They both said yes! Congratulations to you both, I will expect my invitation in the post ASAP. I’ll need to buy a new hat," he laughed before flinging the arm he wasn’t holding his microphone with out wide, then throwing his head back as he bellowed, "CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE IN HERE TONIGHT, LONDON?"

His question was met with a lot of screams in agreement and, with that, he was off again to continue the show. The music kicked in, he moved to another part of the stage, and everyone's attention was back on him. 

"You fucking bitch," Rose said to me, laughing as tears ran down her cheeks and she pulled me into a tight hug. I started to cry again, too, thrilled for my best friends and thrilled the plan had worked. "I can't believe that just happened! Did he know we were both going to do it?"

"Know?!" I cackled, wiping my tears. "It was his idea! When you both had told me separately, in the same week, that you wanted to propose, I asked Harry for some ideas on how you could do it without knowing, and he suggested tonight before I’d even finished asking."

Rose stepped back and shook her head in happy disbelief. She was smiling from ear to ear as Dee threw her arms around her and kissed her cheek. Seeing them so happy made all the lying and sneaking around I’d had to do worth it, I’d kept things from Rose, but I’d never outright lied to her. I’d had to pretend I had a dentist appointment when I was actually going to look at engagement rings with Dee, and then while I was there I had to pretend to Dee that I hadn’t been in the exact same jewellers with Rose the week before getting her to try on ones she liked while we looked for hers. 

Harry had leapt on the chance to help me, especially as he felt he owed Rose for helping him when he needed it. We’d tried to come up with the typical ideas like dinner at a fancy restaurant where both of them would be served their ring-boxes under a silver serving cloche, or at a small surprise gathering for just family and friends where they both thought the surprise was for the other person, but neither felt right. So Harry had come up with the idea while I was in Milan with him, and it felt perfect. It was also a good way to repay her for all the times she picked me up when I needed it, for being the kind, funny, wicked, and wonderful person who knew me better than anybody else, for being my true family. Seeing her happy, dancing with her future wife, was all I had ever wanted for her, just like all she’d ever wanted for me was to be happy. They were my family, and I loved them with everything I had.

Terry and Will knew the building well, so Rose, Dee and I followed them to the bar backstage. I trailed behind the couples, hoping to delay being in the same room as Anne and Gemma without Harry for as long as I could. 

I was strangely excited to meet them again, hopeful that Harry’s reassurances that they were looking forward to seeing me would mean we were able to move on from the past, but I had hoped he would be by my side when it happened. Having worked the night before, I’d missed Harry’s first show, but I’d still driven to his after and spent the night. Anne had gone to bed by the time I arrived, and I was up early with Harry for him to go for his run and so I could drive to the office before the traffic was too bad. Walking into the bar, and spotting Anne almost instantly as she spoke to Harry’s friend, Nick Grimshaw, I knew for certain there was going to be no chance of avoiding her.

“Is that Anne?” Rose asked me as we politely waved to each other on our way to the bar to get drinks. 

“Yep.”

“Damn!” She took another glance at the brunette woman on the other side of the room - who looked every bit the proud parent - and gave a low whistle like she was an American man from a 1950’s movie. “Don’t tell my future wife this, but Harry’s mum is gorgeous!”

“I can hear you,” Dee’s voice came from behind me, her chin settling on my shoulder to take a look. “Okay, I’ll allow it. And you,” she added, wrapping her arms around my body, “you’re going to be fine. You both have loving Harry in common, and that’s a great start.”

“Listen to how wise my wife-to-be is!” Rose grinned, accepting her glass of champagne from Will. “Where’s his sister? I don’t see her.”

I looked around and there seemed to be no sign of Gemma, so I shrugged. “Maybe she left straight away, or couldn’t make it.”

“I spoke to Anne last night,” Will said, passing a glass to me. “She was very nice, and she said she was looking forward to getting to know you.”

“I mean… thank you for waiting this long to tell me that, William.” Rolling my eyes and deciding to bite the bullet, I took a long sip of my drink. “Right! Let’s get this over with.”

With words of encouragement following behind me, I made my way over to Anne and Nick. Butterflies hammered my tummy, and with each step I hoped Harry would suddenly appear so we could take this step together. But soon I was close enough to be noticed and Nick smiled as I approached, greeting me like an old friend. I guessed that considering that Layla-Rose Events was planning an event for him, all the times he’d been around when Harry and I had been together, - including the night we met for the first time - and the fact he was friends with Dee, he practically was a friend of mine, too.

“Hello, Cupid!” he grinned, kissing my cheek, “Anne was just telling us about you and Harry being in cahoots for your friends’ proposal.”

Turning to Anne, I was surprised by how warm her smile was as she leaned in to hug me. I hadn’t been able to help but imagine the worst when I thought about how it would be when we first saw each other again, I’d expected a glass of champagne over my head, a slap around the face, or just a cold refusal to talk to me, but I’d only occasionally allowed myself imagine that she would be warm and welcoming instead. 

“Hello, love,” she said, gently patting me on the back in such a motherly way that I almost started to cry. (I often choked up around Rose’s mum, Carol, when she did anything remotely mothering. The Fullerton’s were entirely used to it by now and just let me get on with it.) “I bet that was difficult to keep quiet!”

“Oh you have no idea!” I chuckled. “I had to bite my tongue every time Rose panicked today that Dee was going to turn her down. But it couldn’t have gone any better, so it was worth it.”

Anne laughed, touching my arm, “Well, they won’t forget that proposal that’s for sure.” 

“If they need a DJ, I am available, but I am very expensive.” 

We all laughed at Nick’s joke and I was thankful that he was there to alleviate what I’d thought was going to be a difficult meeting. It seemed that the proposal, along with the pride of seeing Harry doing what he loved - and did so well - had put everyone in a celebratory mood. 

Nick excused himself to go say hello to Dee and Rose, and left Anne and I alone to talk. There was a moment of awkwardness, neither one of us sure who should speak first and if we should keep the conversation light, or address the many elephants in the room. I decided - what with already having kept things light with Bianca - that I should make my intentions known straight away so we could start afresh. Evidently, Anne thought the same thing.

“While I have you to myself, I just want to say one thing and then we can move on. Is that okay?” she asked, before turning to look and see if she had the time to say her piece.

“Of course! I'd like to do the same.”

“Good. Well, I'll be honest and say that I really wasn't happy when he first told me about you. And even when he explained about the situation with your husband, I still didn't want him to be around you." My insides shrivelled, and I could feel any positivity I'd felt unravel. Externally however, I nodded and tried to keep my expression impassive. If this was an attack, I wasn't going to go crying to Harry about it. I'd already known how she felt, but hearing it directly felt awful. "It was horrible seeing him hurt like that, it's never nice to see your child in pain - especially when you knew it was coming.”

“I never wanted to hurt him-”

“I know that, and I know that he brought a lot of it on himself. Gemma told me about your conversation, and she saw that you were hurting just as much.” Anne looked around again, then looked at me with a sympathy I wasn't expecting. “It was a mess, and I realise that you had to do what you had to do. I just hope that things are much better now, and that you're in a better place?”

Expecting a long tirade of reasons why I was the worst thing to happen to her son, I was thrown off by her comment - posed as a question - was for me to confirm that what had been toxic was now something good. I could already see that the distance and coldness she had shown me at the film premiere the first night we met was considerably less, that there was a willingness to have some sort of good relationship with me. Providing she knew that I really did love her son.

Clearing my throat, I prayed that I didn't open my mouth and start wailing. I clasped my hands together against my stomach, and hoped she couldn't see that they were shaking.  
  
"Your son makes me very happy," I answered, calmly. "I do regret the circumstances we met under, and the age difference is always a worry to me, but I want you to know that I love him. Ending our relationship nearly broke me, and there is no dramatic hyperbole when I say that. I couldn't see him, hear his name, nothing. But, I never stopped loving him, and I am so happy we are trying to do things right this time.” Laughing, I carefully wiped the corners of my eyes as tears sprang to them. “I'm sorry, I've had a crazy couple of weeks and I'm crying at the drop of a hat at the moment.”

Anne gently touched my arm, and the gesture only made me want to cry harder. 

"All I want is for Harry to be happy,” she said, moving her hand to hold mine as she looked me in the eye. “You're a smart woman, you know the business he's in, and he could have anybody he wants. But, despite his attempts to move on, my son is in love with you and you're the person he wants to be with. So, I don't particularly agree with your past behaviour, but that was a long time ago. Harry is a grown man now, who's perfectly capable of making his own decisions. So, as long as you're both happy together, then I would like us to move on. Okay?"  
  
"That's what I was hoping we could do," I nodded, aware that Harry had arrived and was coming over to us. The master of perfect timing. "I'd like that a lot."  
  
"Good!" Her face broke out into a wide smile that reminded me of Harry's, and out of pure relief, I returned it. Letting go of my hand, she raised her glass and clinked it against mine in a gesture of new beginnings. "So, no more talk of that. It's done. What I want now is for us to get to know each other, so you'll have to come home with Harry the next time he comes up.”

“Hello!” Harry beamed, kissing Anne on the cheek before leaning over to kiss mine. “Two of my favourite women together, at last. What have you two been chatting about, then?”

“I was just saying to Layla that she should come with you the next time you come home.” Anne's smile was warm and loving as she looked at her son, and when she looked at me, it hadn't faltered at all.

Harry turned his head to face me, and gave me a wink, pleased we were getting along. “Would that be okay?”

I hadn't been north of Birmingham in over ten years, finding anything outside the M25 too close to Liverpool, but that didn't seem so terrible anymore. Getting to know Harry's family and friends was as important as him getting to know mine.

Brushing the back of my hand against his in a subtle gesture, I smiled at Anne and said, “I would love that.”


	6. Days (i)

Joel and I hadn't spoken to each other since he'd found out about Harry and I being together. I still struggled with the thought of someone being angry with me, (something, which I'd come to realise with my therapist, was left over from both Paula being a doting mother one day and ignoring me like I was an inconvenience the next, and from my marriage to Will where there were long periods of silent treatment,) so I wanted nothing more than to just avoid him until he wasn't so angry anymore. However, the meeting with Anne had gone so well, that it inspired me to put on my big girl knickers, and go speak to a man who was good to me when I needed it the most, and who I never wanted to think I'd dropped him because something better came along.

It had been a while since I'd visited Will and Terry at work, in actuality I hadn't been back since the awkward run-in with Joel the day I told Will that Harry and I were together. Before Joel and I had split up, I'd gone to visit them at least once a week, but I no longer felt comfortable there. 

Still, when I pushed open the glass double-doors, I was greeted with a beaming smile by Maggie.

"Hello, stranger! Long time no see." Giving me a warm hug, she then glanced down at her gold wristwatch. "Will's out at a meeting, but Terry's in his office. Or are you here to see Joel?"

"I'm here to see Joel, but I need a pep talk from Terry," I replied with a grimace. 

Maggie nodded sympathetically, "Ah, I see! Well, Joel's in a good mood, so you've chosen a good day."

"Hopefully I'm not about to ruin it!" 

"You'll be fine, sweetheart," she said, patting my shoulder gently. "Oh! And while you're talking to Terrance, will you please tell him to take some bloody time off? Will and I have been nagging him that he needs to start taking things a little easier, but he won't listen to us."

Heading down the corridor to Terry's office, I could hear music before I'd even reached the door. When I knocked loudly and pushed the door open to pop my head around it, I wasn't surprised to find Terry, sketching away and nodding his head along to the ' _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardus_ t' album.

"Alright, Ted?" I said, loud enough to be heard over ' _Five Years_ ' when he hadn't looked up. "Am I interrupting?"

Head popping up, his face split into a warm grin, "Layla! Hello Cariad, what are you doing here?" Getting up from his chair, he turned the volume down and walked over to me with open arms. "Will's gone out to a meeting if you're looking for him."

I didn't respond at first, I simply savoured the tight hug he gave me. Terry's hugs reminded me of being a little girl and going to visit my grandparents with my mother. My grandfather would hug me so tight I was always worried he was going to crush my tiny bones, but it also told me how much he loved me, and made me feel safe - I always got that feeling with Terry, too.

"Maggie said he was out, but I've come to speak to Joel."

"And you need a bit of geeing up before you face him?" He linked his arm with mine as I nodded, then led me over to his leather couch, which I knew was usually reserved for his afternoon nap. "Well, it's a lovely surprise to see you, and I won't deny that I would like you to clear the air with Joel for purely selfish reasons so that we can have you come here a bit more again."

"I have been busy, too," I attempted, weakly. "He's not the only reason I haven't been here," 

Terry raised a dubious eyebrow, then chuckled, "Speaking of busy, how were the rest of Harry's shows? He's in Australia now, isn't he?"

"He is, and they were so fantastic! I just really love watching him in his element. He's so happy on stage, and I love finally getting to see him do what he enjoys doing so much. Did you see the kilts him and the band wore?" 

"I did, they all looked marvellous! As does that smile when you talk about him." I blushed at Terry's comment, and he laughed as I giggled and covered my face. "It's lovely, Layla, don't be embarrassed! You looked wonderfully happy and comfortable together when we saw you. It's very obviously easy for you to be in each other's company, and that's what's truly important. I'm just so pleased for you both."

His words were like music to my ears, and I wanted to weep with joy. It did feel easy and comfortable with Harry, and we'd settled back into how things had been at the very start of our relationship, but it was all so much better because there were no secrets and no need to hide anything about how we felt about each other. Saying goodbye when he'd left to go to Australia had been the hardest it had ever been, but with plans set for us to go away together after the tour had finished, it had also been the easiest. I felt secure in what we had.

In an attempt to refrain from gushing about precisely how content I was, I replied simply, "Thank you. It's going really well at the moment, I'm... I'm extremely happy." 

"Wonderful, I'm glad. Now! Regarding what you do about Joel, I think you just need to go and be honest with him. I'm aware he already knows most of the truth, but he needs to hear the whole truth from you." Terry patted my knee reassuringly, "Once you've done that, it's down to him."

"Rose thinks I should just leave him to simmer and get over it, but I can't do it. I want to try and put things right."

"Oh well, Rose can be too overprotective and hard for her own good, sometimes," he said softly with a shake of his head. "Although that does surprise me to hear, considering she fought on his behalf not so long ago. Either way, maybe she might be right this time, but, Layla, my love, you're a grown woman and you should do what you think is best."

We spoke for a little while longer about Joel and what I should say, then I decided to do precisely as I had done with Anne, and get it over with. Just as I was about to get up to leave, Terry yawned widely and stretched his arms out. I saw exactly what Maggie had meant when she said he needed to take a break, he was looking a little tired and not like his usual spritely self. He was nearing seventy, and although he hardly ever looked - or behaved - his age, there was no denying that he wasn't getting any younger.

"Are you okay, Ted? You look a bit off colour?" I asked. "When're you going on your honeymoon?"

"Bloody Maggie! It's just this cold I have. I've had it for almost three weeks and the bugger won't shift. However, we're going next month, four weeks and counting," he chuckled. "A bit of rest and relaxation will hopefully fix everything, along with a cocktail or two."

Leaning to rest my head on Terry's shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his bicep. "She's just looking out for you, and so am I. We love you!" 

"I know, I know, but I'll be fine. Will put his foot down this morning, and he insisted I stay here and not go to one of our meetings today, so I am taking it easy." 

He kissed the top of my head, and I decided not to push the issue further. It was rare for Will to go to meetings without Terry, so there wasn't much more I could say. A holiday would do the both of them the world of good, and they deserved to go and get away from it all.

**-**

Knocking on the door to Joel's office, I thought about giving in to cowardice and making a dash for the exit. Perhaps Rose and Terry were right to suggest that I leave him alone, maybe he did need more time before he'd be willing to understand my side of things. However, just as I was hoping that maybe he'd slipped past Maggie and gone to lunch, I heard Joel's voice telling me to come in.

Lifting his head from his work, his smile fell as soon as he realised it was me.

"Hi, is this a good time? Can we talk?" I asked nervously, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind me.

Joel shook his head in disbelief, then lowered it back down, going back to whatever it was he'd been doing before I likely ruined his day. "What do you want, Layla? I'm busy."

"I want... I'd like to clear the air. I hate that things are so horrible between us. Please?" 

Moving to stand in front of his desk, I watched as he continued to scribble away and tap furiously at the calculator in front of him. He was incredibly gifted with numbers and had considered becoming an accountant, so I suspected he was merely taking some of his anger out on the oversized square buttons rather than actually needing help.

I was just about to accept that he had no interest in talking to me, when suddenly he threw his pen down sharply, and looked up at me again with an ice-cold expression. 

"I honestly don't understand why you didn't tell me. Don't you trust me?" Joel asked, his gaze following as I sat down in the chair opposite him. "Did you think I would go tell the world just because you had a fling with... " Pausing, he scoffed, "... Harry Styles."

The way he said Harry's name turned my stomach. He cheapened what we had, judging him by what he read in the tabloids, thinking he was still the same teenager who seemed to be getting as many notches on his bedpost as possible. Rose had been right, Joel was too angry to listen to me, and I regretted coming to speak to him.

Weakly, I replied, "It's... I couldn't. But it's not that I didn't trust you. I just couldn't say his name. To you, to anyone. I wasn't having secret talks with my friends about Harry the moment your back was turned, I didn't want to see him, hear him, think about him, or talk about him."

Joel rolled his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in his chair. He was unimpressed and unconvinced. "Were you seeing him while we were together?"

"No! Absolutely not. You and I breaking up had nothing to do with Harry, at all. The first time I saw him was at a company party, and that was the first time in three years. That was the first time we'd had any real contact."

Opening his mouth to say something, he decided against it and closed them again. I suspected he wanted to blame me again for him having been excluded from the party, but had since realised he was glad he hadn't been there. He probably also - or at least I hoped - realised I had had no part in anything to do with that party. I had merely shown up.

"You realise he's probably going to cheat on you again, don't you? You dumped him, he was unhappy because he couldn't have you, but now he does have you, and he'll probably get bored." Seeing me frown, he quickly added, "And that's not a reflection on you, Lil, that's just the cold hard fact of dating someone famous, dating someone who could have anyone in the world. Dating someone like him."

I shook my head, "No, it's not like that. Not this time."

"Layla, you sound so naive." I was surprised by how gentle he sounded. Joel leant against the desk and slid his hand out across it, his fingers splayed as he demonstrated he wasn't trying to be malicious, but that he was genuinely concerned for me. "You said that you broke up with him because he couldn't give you what you needed, that he didn't want to tell his friends and family about you, how has any of that changed? You went to see him on tour? Is that it? You're never going to be the woman on his arm."

"He asked me to marry him." 

The room fell silent, apart from a particularly loud sneeze coming from the office next door which normally would have caused both of us to giggle. Joel looked like I'd just slapped him around the face, his mouth slowly falling open. Snapping his jaw closed, he stood up and walked to the small window behind him. I probably should have kept the not-really-a-proposal proposal to myself, but while I wanted to make amends with him, I wasn't going to let him put doubts in my head or insult my relationship when I knew that what he was saying was wrong. Hearing Joel - or anyone else - say those things about Harry would have once upon a time upset me to the core and left me filled with concern and doubt, but this time I felt totally confident that Harry and I were stronger and more committed than ever. Perhaps I was being naive, but it was how I felt.

Quietly, he asked, "Did you say yes?"

"No, my feelings on getting married again just yet are still the same. But I... You have to know that the relationship with Harry is different this time. It's serious, and he's giving me, or is going to give, the things I wanted." Sighing heavily, I wasn't sure if I'd just made things better or worse. "I should have told you it was Harry I'd had an affair with, but who he was wasn't relevant. I didn't get involved with Harry because of who he is, if anything that hindered matters, but I should have told you and I'm sorry."

Joel finally turned around and looked at me. There was still so much hurt in his eyes, but I also glimpsed a small hint of acceptance. I didn't want to tell him he was wrong for hurting, or to silence the anger and betrayal he felt, but it was a relief to see something other than those things when I looked into his eyes. 

"I suppose I knew that there was something between you two. One mention of his name and suddenly you want to break up? Guess I just thought that you'd tell me if you'd had an affair with one of the most famous men in the world. " Shrugging, he changed the subject, "The girls miss you, they keep asking when they can see you and Stan."

"I miss them a lot, too. Although, Stan probably doesn't miss getting mauled at though."

I was relieved when he laughed with me, a genuine chuckle that gave me hope that maybe we could at least be cordial whenever I came into the office. Friends was too much to hope for, I had lucked out with having Will become one of my best friends, but I could settle for being friendly if and when Joel was ready for that.

Sitting back down, he looked thoughtful before taking a deep breath and asking, "Can you just tell me if what we had was real? That I wasn't only a stopgap?"

"Oh god, no! What we had was so special to me, it meant more to me than you'll ever truly know. I was broken and you were kind and patient and supportive while I put myself back together." My throat tightened with emotion as I remembered what it had been like when I was at rock bottom, when Joel had become a tiny glimmer of light at the end of a remarkably long, dark tunnel. "It was real, it was so real, and I will forever be thankful for you. I do love you."

"Just not enough."

**-**

Leaving before either of us could say anything to ruin the understanding we had come to, I hugged Joel tightly and said goodbye. I sat in my car in the carpark for a short while, feeling like I'd just gone through another break up, while simultaneously feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

As I drove home, I thought about what Joel had said about Harry cheating on me again once he got bored. I knew it was a possibility - I would have been crazy not to have that thought in the back of my mind, all things considered - but something deep down in my gut told me that I had nothing to worry about this time. I was going into the relationship with my eyes wide open, with my own support system, and with the confidence in myself that I knew I could handle whatever life threw at me. 

There was a risk that Harry would break my heart again, but I wasn't scared or put off by that risk as I had been the day he and I sat down to discuss where we wanted our relationship to go. Taking a chance on being with him felt infinitely more preferable to settling for a relationship which was safe, but not what I wanted. Harry and the life we were slowly beginning to build and grow together was worth the risk.

Speaking with Joel had cleared the air, but it had also enforced just how right I had been to end our relationship. There wasn't any need to look back with regret for what could have been, because nothing could make me as happy as I was when the music in my car cut out and the screen on my dashboard informed me that Harry was calling me after his show.


	7. I'll See You In My Dreams

It was a rare quiet day at work. The evening before had been our extremely belated office Christmas party, and although we'd only planned to have a nice meal, a few drinks, then maybe go somewhere to dance, that was not what ended up happening. Instead, as was typical, - and Rose and I were stupid for not knowing it would happen - a majority of us had ended up staying out until three in the morning, doing tequila shots in a karaoke room inside a nightclub in Clapham. Needless to say, everyone was feeling a little worse for wear.

"I feel like shit," Rose groaned, shuffling into the office with a can of Red Bull and a large bar of chocolate in hand. "It's like Dawn of the Dead out there."

Sunglasses on, the hood of my pink Treat People With Kindness hoodie pulled up and as far forward as possible, and without a scrap of make-up on, I sat low in my chair, messaging Harry before he went to sleep. He was being wonderfully sweet about my hangover, and was only mildly making fun of me for the long, rambling voice note I'd sent when I got home, telling him about how much I loved him and missed him and couldn't wait for us to go away somewhere when his tour ended. He told me I'd started singing _'Just One Look_ ' by The Hollies at one point, but I flat out refused to believe him, purely because I couldn't handle the embarrassment.

"What time shall we call it quits?" I asked. "We were fools for even thinking any of us would be in a fit state for work. We should've listened to Vicky when she suggested last night that we should just tell everyone to work from home."

Rose sat down in her chair and glanced at her wrist, then remembered she'd forgotten to put her watch on as she'd stumbled out the door that morning. "I say we go at two. We can all go home and come back tomorrow rested and fresh. I just want my bed." Taking a long swig of her energy drink, she then added, "Next year, we're definitely all having the day off."

"Ugh! I don't want to _think_ about next year." Mumbling, I sent Harry a final goodnight, then dropped both hands down towards the floor, falling limp in my chair. As my head fell back against the headrest, I nodded in agreement. "Two sounds fine to me."

Closing my eyes, I was about to fall asleep when I felt my phone vibrating in my hand. I thought perhaps it was Harry calling to say a proper goodnight, but when I heavily raised my hand to look at the screen, I was surprised to see Will's name.

He and Terry had finally been on their long-awaited and much-needed honeymoon in Bali, and non-hungover Layla had offered to pick them up from the airport to save on having to pay for parking. They had declined at the time - saying they would simply get a cab - but I imagined they had changed their mind after such a long flight, and instead were eager to get home. Although, by the time I got there, it would be much quicker for them to just get a taxi.

"Hello, Mr Daniels-French! How was paradise?" I asked, sounding considerably more chipper than I felt.

On the other end of the call, I could only hear the sound of traffic and what sounded like somebody sniffing back tears. Then suddenly the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I sat bolt upright in my seat as I waited for Will to say something.

Finally, in a small voice that made him almost sound childlike, Will spoke, "Lil, I... I need you."

"What happened? Is everything okay?"

Hearing my ex-husband starting to cry properly, I knew what was coming. His whimpers were pained, and he sounded afraid. I knew there was only one thing that could make him sound so... lost. But, I needed to hear it, I couldn't possibly believe the worst case scenario that my brain had automatically jumped to until I heard him say it.

"W-We were in the taxi home, and Ter-." Will paused as the blaring sound of an ambulance screaming past drowned out his words. When I could hear him again, he was sobbing, "He hadn't been feeling well for the past few nights, but we thought maybe he'd eaten something. He's gone, Lil. What am I going to do without him? He's gone, he's... he's... gone."

Blood rushed to my ears and I felt so warm I thought I was going to pass out. Quietly, I asked, "Where are you?"

"We're... I'm at Lewisham Hospital."

"Will, go inside, and wait. I'll get there as soon as I can. Have you called Mia and, oh God what was Terry's son's name? Jack. Have you called them?"

Sobs quieting, he muttered to himself, "A heart attack. But all our suitcases, our... luggage, his clothes..."

"Will? Have you called Mia and Jack?"

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes, I called them, I mean, I've called Mia, she's on her way. She's going to call Jack, but he's in Ibiza. She just had a baby, Lil, and now she loses her dad. And you, you're losing a father, too."

The weeping turned back into full-blown sobs again, and I wanted to join in, but I couldn't. I'd never heard Will sound so broken, so I had to keep myself together for him. I no longer bottled up my feelings and emotions, but this was a time where I had to, for his sake and mine.

Taking a steadying breath, I glanced at Rose who had put the pieces together from my side of the conversation and had started to cry. "Will, darling, go inside, sit tight and I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay?"

"O-okay."

Hanging up, I threw my phone onto the desk as I lurched forward off my chair and vomited into the waste-paper basket I'd placed near my chair that morning. It was cold from all the water I'd been drinking, landing in the bag clear and watery. With my head in the bin and my hands planted firmly on the rough, blue carpet, I heaved and retched until there was nothing left to come up but horrible, bitter bile. I waited until the contractions in my stomach settled, then sat back on the floor with a heavy thud.

Terry dead? I couldn't get my head around the thought. Sure, he'd been looking a little tired before he went away, but... I wasn't sure how I was meant to even imagine a life without him in it. Even when he was technically dead to me, I knew deep down there was always the chance I'd see him again and even forgive him. No more swapping songs or albums we'd been listening to, no more hearing tales of his hedonistic youth of cheap concerts, free drugs proffered by iconic musicians, and backstage antics from when rock and roll was still alive and well. No more of him chatting in Welsh to Stan, no more of the bone crushing hugs that made me feel safe and loved, and no more advice which was almost always perfect and came from the purest place of love. No more Terry.

Placing a hand on my heart in hope of keeping it together as it shattered into a million pieces, I looked up at Rose.

Our eyes met, and although she knew exactly what I was going to tell her, she wiped her tears off her reddening cheeks and asked with a sniff, "Please tell me I've completely got the wrong end of that call. Please tell me Terry's okay."

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't speak. I wanted to tell her she was wrong and not to jump to conclusions when she was earwigging in on a private conversation, but all I could do was slowly shake my head and brush away the tears I didn't have time to shed. I had to keep it together so that I could go and get Will.

Grasping ahold of the distress and wanting to lie down and weep forever, I swallowed it all down and put it away to deal with later. "He, uh, he had a heart attack, but they... they... he's gone."

"Oh my God!" Rose gasped, covering her mouth as a fresh wave of tears sprang to her eyes, "Where's Will? Is he okay?"

Clambering up off the floor, I looked around for my belongings and avoided looking at her. I rarely saw Rose cry. Sure, she'd pretend there was something in her eye every time we watched _'Forrest Gump',_ or when housemates got their letters from home in _'Big Brother'_ , and she'd cried at the proposal, but I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I saw her really and truly cry. If anything was going to make me lose hold of the tight grip on my emotions, it was witnessing the strongest, most resilient woman I knew openly crying.

"He's not good. They got taken to Lewisham, so I'm going to go get him, if that's okay?" I asked, chucking my things into my handbag and making sure I had my car keys. "Do you think I should take him home? Or take him to mine?"

"Of course that's okay! Listen, I'll come with you, I'm not sure you should be driving, and I don't want you going alone. Vicky can send everyone home and lock up." Rose stood up and grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk to dry her tears. "Lil, babe, you just put your stapler in your handbag."

I paused my scrambling and looked down to see that she was right. I had to pull myself together, focus, and get my head straight. Standing still, I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep, much-needed breaths. When I opened them back up again, Rose was walking towards me with open arms but I put out a hand to stop her from getting close.

"Don't." I said, softly. "I'm sorry. I want to hug you, and I need a hug more than anything right now, but if I do I will start to cry, and then I'm not going to be able to stop."

She nodded in sympathetic understanding, choosing instead to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'm coming with you, and we'll take Will to yours if he doesn't want to go home yet."

Putting my hand on hers, I relented and accepted the help and support she was offering. "Okay, okay. But I want to drive, I need to have something to focus on."

**-**

The journey to Lewisham passed in a foggy blur, and even though I'd driven there plenty of times with Joel to visit his family, I relied heavily on the satnav because I didn't trust my brain to get me there unassisted. Rose and I didn't talk, the words 'Terry's dead' just incessantly looped in my thoughts, interspersed with reminders that I had to stop for traffic lights, and I needed to be aware of the other cars around me.

As we walked through the hospital, I remembered just how much I hated them. Other than the time I'd taken Rose to get her finger stitched up after she nearly sliced her finger off dicing onions wearing ski goggles, I'd managed to avoid going to hospitals. They reminded me of Paula dying, of social workers doing their best to convince me to visit my sister, and nurses trying to hide how upset they were by the filthy, near-catatonic state I was in. Moving through the uniform corridors of every NHS hospital, I felt the same confusion and loss I had way back then, the same stunned, frozen grief.

"Layla? Rose?"

Rose placed a gentle hand on my arm, stopping me when I didn't react to our names being called. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Terry's daughter, Mia, rushing towards us. She somehow still looked beautiful with red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, her hair thrown up sloppily on top of her head, and the clothes of a new mum who had nothing that wasn't covered in baby vomit. Surprisingly, she was alone.

"Mia, I'm... I'm so, so sorry," Rose said when she reached us.

Mia gave her a quiet thanks and a watery smile, then looked at me. I lowered my gaze, wondering if she was going to question why I was there and tell me to leave because I wasn't wanted, but instead she took me by surprise by throwing her arms around me and bursting into tears.

"I can't get hold of Jack, or my mum," she sobbed against my shoulder. "I had to leave the baby with my neighbour because Phil's at work, and I've just spent a fortune on a taxi with a driver who didn't understand I wanted to be left alone, telling me about hospital car park charges."

Stunned, I wrapped my arms around her, stroking her back and fighting the reminder I had a hangover every time she sniffed loudly in my ear. I felt uncomfortable in her presence, the last time we had seen each other was Will and Terry's wedding and other than an icy hello at the start of the day, she had pretended I virtually didn't exist.

"Come on," I said, pulling away and moving to her side so that I could comfort her as we walked, "let's go find Will, he needs you. We'll keep trying Jack and your mum, okay? We'll get a hold of them as soon as we can."

Mia nodded with a whimper, taking steps with me as she took a few hiccuping breaths. I was grieving for Terry, a man I thought of as the only father I'd ever had, but Mia actually was grieving for her dad. What I was experiencing paled in comparison to the loss she felt.

The three of us walked slowly to where we needed to go and found Will, alone, in a quiet, dimly-lit waiting room. We halted when we saw him; his skin was tanned, but his face was somehow pale, he was still in shorts and a t-shirt, and there were two suitcases next to him. I had never seen him look so utterly bereft and haunted. I couldn't even see his face properly as his steepled hands covered his nose and mouth, but his eyes were empty and distant, as though all the love and life had left them and went wherever his husband had gone. If he was ever going to be the same person ever again, it was going to take a long time before it happened.

"Will?" Rose said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, speaking when Mia and I could do nothing but stare at a man who'd very clearly just lost his whole world.

Will looked up with a dazed expression, but the moment he saw Mia, his bottom lip wobbled and his face crumpled. Sobbing, he went to stand but ended up only falling to his knees.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he cried, putting his head in his hands. "I did everything I could, I begged him not to leave us."

Mia left my side and rushed forward, kneeling down next to him. They wept together, enveloping their arms around each other in a shared grief, and suddenly I regretted coming. I felt I was intruding on their loss, that I was seeing something I shouldn't be because it wasn't mine to look at. Watching them comfort each other, I was reminded even more that I couldn't suffer the loss of Terry in the same way as Will and Mia and the rest of Terry's family. He wasn't mine to grieve in that way, I was an outsider.

**-**

Everyone agreed it was best Will came and stayed with me, until at least after the funeral. Mia's husband, Phillip, arrived to take her home, and Rose and I took Will and his suitcases back to mine. Unsurprisingly, he was quiet the whole way home; staring out of the window with glassy eyes, and biting his nails (a horrible habit of his that both Terry and I had tried to stop for years).

It was only when we dropped Rose back at the office so that she could drive over to his house to pick up some clothes for him that weren't gaudy patterned shirts, chino shorts, or loafers, that Will finally spoke.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Glancing at him in the rear view mirror, I forced a weak smile, doing my best to be strong for him. "I'm fine. I'm in shock, but I'm okay. Stupid question, but are you alright?"

Will inhaled deeply and let out a long, heavy sigh.

Shrugging, he replied, "I don't know if I'm ever going to be alright ever again, to be honest, Lil."

I felt helpless as we drove the rest of the way in silence. I tried to think of things I could say that would reassure him things would get easier, that there would be a time when that heavy weight sitting on his chest and the hollow emptiness in his stomach would gradually ease until he one day found himself living his life normally, again. But they were empty platitudes that meant nothing when he was only just in the deepest, darkest depths of despair and loss. I knew there was nothing I could say to make him feel better, I could only be there when he needed me.

**-**

Back at mine, I got Will to take a shower while I called Maggie, Joel, and Will's other business partner, Marcus, to let them know what had happened. I felt terrible dropping the bombshell on them before quickly rushing the call and hanging up while they still processed the information, but I didn't want to be on the phone when Will came out of the bathroom. I also didn't want to upset him by opening his cases and touching Terry's belongings, so I lugged them upstairs and took them into the guest room, wishing I'd had time to make the room more... comfortable for him.

"Where should I put my clothes?" Will mumbled, drifting into the bedroom in my dressing down with his shorts and shoes in a bundle in his arms.

Reaching out for him to give them to me, I noticed he'd put the t-shirt he'd been wearing back on.

"Don't you want me to wash that, too?" I asked, placing his shoes on the floor next to the dresser.

He wrapped the robe tighter over his chest so the tee was covered, and shook his head, "No. H-he picked this out for me this morning, and..."

"Hey, it's fine. You have to do this in your own time, and take the time you need." Chuckling, I closed the gap between us and hugged him for the first time all day, "But I won't hesitate to wrangle it off your body if it gets stinky in a day or two."

"I'll allow it." We stood together and I just held him while he quietly cried until Rose and Dee arrived with the things he'd asked for. I asked if he wanted to stay upstairs and be alone, but he shook his head. As I went to leave the room to head downstairs, he reached for my hand and held it, "I don't want to go back to being the bitter, horrible person I was before, Lil."

"You won't."

"I know. Back then I only had Terry, but now I have all of you." His bottom lip trembled and a large tear rolled down his cheek. "Thank you for letting me stay, and for coming to get me."

Pulling back into my hold, I hugged him as tight as I could and told him I loved him, hoping he knew how much I meant every, single letter of those three words. We had been through so much together, and we would get through this, too.

My phone rang just as we stepped into the kitchen. Dee burst into tears the moment she saw Will, which in turn made Rose cry, too. The three of them rushed together in a group hug, but I was relieved to escape, glad I wouldn't seem heartless to my friends when I couldn't join in with their tears. I knew I would cry eventually, that the floodgates would open when I was alone, or - as was often the case - when I heard Harry's voice, but I wasn't quite prepared to let the illusion of strength fade in front of Will just yet.

Expecting it to be someone calling to ask about Terry, I was shocked to see it was Harry calling me. I didn't think I'd hear from him until much later in the evening or until the following morning, but I was glad he'd seen my message much earlier.

Not picking up until I was in the living room with the door closed behind me, I closed my eyes and answered. "Harry. Something really terrible happened."


	8. London Town

When Bianca called me to say she'd be arriving in London two days before Terry's funeral, I almost asked her to change her plans. I'd been flat out making arrangements, taking care of Will, and trying to balance my work, too. And, on top of all of that, Harry was flying home to be by my side at the funeral. I'd clean forgotten about my sister coming to visit again so we could sit and talk, and as she re-laid her plans and suggestions of us going to do something together to alleviate any awkwardness, it all sounded like too much to juggle. I was already burying most of my grief so that I was able to be strong for Will, I wasn't sure I could handle a conversation where I had to inform my long-lost sister of the horrors she had experienced but had little recollection or knowledge of.

But, I had been looking forward to seeing her again, and I thought that maybe doing some sightseeing together would make talking and getting to know each other a little easier. I also hoped it would take my mind off Terry, - even if it was only for a little while - so we made arrangements of when and where to meet, and agreed we would then go back to mine later in the day so that we could talk.

**-**

We met outside Victoria Station, it was a gloriously warm, sunny day, and we had both chosen floral sundresses with flat, tan sandals. It made us both laugh to see that our matching shoes on our first meeting a few months before, - when I hadn't even known who she was - hadn't simply been a one off.

Pointing at her shoes before we hugged each other tightly, I warned her, "Both of our feet are going to be filthy by the end of the day."

"You knew this and still wore them?" Bianca asked with a chuckle, linking her arm with mine and extending a foot so that she could wiggle her perfectly manicured toes. "You Southerners are loopy!"

"Hey! I'm still a Northerner, but," I raised my free arm up and sang, "maybe it's because I'm a Londoner, that I love London, so!"

We slowly walked from the station towards Buckingham Palace, making small talk about her journey from Liverpool, and about how Finn was doing.

"It's funny," she grinned, "I thought I'd be over the moon to have some time to myself while I'm away, I can sleep for a whole night, I don't have to constantly watch ' _Paw Patro_ l' or that bitch ' _Peppa Pig_ ', but I missed him the moment I left the house."

"Is this your first time leaving him with his father?"

"Yeah. I know Ellis will be fine, he's an awesome dad, and both of our parents live nearby, but I miss my baby!" She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, before turning to look up at the palace as we reached the black and gold ornate gates in front. "Cor! It's pretty impressive. For some reason, I didn't think it would be."

"Did you want to do the tour? I don't think Liz is in, so we could go."

Bianca shook her head, "Nah, maybe next time. I'd like to enjoy this sun a bit more."

After asking if it was okay, she handed me her phone, and I took some photographs of her posing with the building and the gates in the background. She looked adorable and fun as she posed with her hands as if she was drinking tea from a teacup, extended pinky and all. We'd only been together for just under half an hour, and already I was having fun. There was no aura of leftover trauma from the beginning of her life; she was fun, silly, and easy to be around. I didn't want to look too much into how well things were going from our first hanging out together, but I already felt like she and I truly could have a sisterly relationship.

As I handed her phone back, Bianca grabbed my arm and pulled me next to her so that we could take a picture together. Cheeks touching, and barely able to see the screen with the sun blinding us, we smiled widely and took a selfie. I was sure we had taken photos together when we were younger, I even had a vague memory of being photographed with her on my lap the day she came home from the hospital. But they were all long gone.

"A selfie with my sister!" my little sister beamed. Turning to make our way along the long walk up The Mall, heading towards Trafalgar Square, the polite conversation turned to getting to know each other better. I wasn't sure how to respond when she asked me, "Is Harry your ex-husband?"

"Uh... Have I mentioned him?" Realising how abrupt the question was, I quickly added with a chuckle, "Sorry, I can't remember how you know about him."

"I hope I'm not being nosy." Bianca looked a little worried she offended me, and I felt even worse. "Your friends mentioned him calling when I was at your house, and I remember you said you were married."

Remembering the moment instantly, I felt like a dick for being so sensitive at the mere mention of Harry's name.

Linking our arms together again, I said, "You're not being nosy at all, I completely forgot about that. Harry's not my ex-husband, he's my boyfriend. Our relationship is... complicated. We may need wine for that conversation."

"Can I ask why you divorced? Or is that where I cross the line into being a nosy cow?"

"Well... " I hesitated, unsure whether it was an appropriate time to divulge all the goings-on in my marriage. "It's... also super complicated, and we're definitely going to need several drinks to get through that mess!"

Bianca let out a laugh, leading us in the direction of a nearby ice-cream van. "Oh! Well, now I'm even more curious. How about ice-cream instead of wine?"

**-**

By the time we got back to my house, Bianca and I were well on our way to forming the type of bond I was hoping we would. I had worried there were going to be awkward silences where we had nothing to say but the heavy stuff, but the conversation had flowed so easily it almost seemed like a shame to darken the mood once we were sitting by my kitchen table with a bottle of wine.

But she had questions, and I was the one who mostly had the answers.

I held Bianca's hand as I told her the details of my childhood with our mother, pausing every so often to make sure she wanted me to continue. Originally, I had planned on just skimming over the basics and telling her just the parts that concerned her, but her request was that I told her everything - warts and all. So I started from the beginning, and worked my way through until I reached the morning of the events that had changed our lives forever.

"Do you want me to stop for a while?" I asked, tearing off a piece of kitchen roll and passing it to her as she cried. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

Bianca shook her head and dabbed at the tears she couldn't seem to stop from flowing, but I stopped anyway. The sound of her crying was so different from how it had been in my memories and nightmares, her tears were the controlled weeping of an adult, a grown woman who didn't wail and scream in agony. But it still struck a deep chord within me. I needed my own moment to catch my breath and remind myself that what I was telling her had happened almost twenty years before.

Nodding that she was ready for me to continue, I topped up our glasses, took a deep breath, and told her about the day our mother, Paula, died. Telling that story had never been easy, and it was never, ever going to be easy. It made me want to fall to the floor and cry and cry until there were no more tears left. I had started to look back at it and pretend it had happened to someone else - not that I was burying or denying it had happened to me, rather that I wanted to shed the millstone of my past from around my neck - but even relaying it as though it was someone else's story left me horrified. Watching Bianca, - the only other living person who had been with me over those two days - and her reaction, was a sharp reminder that the story was nobody else's but ours.

As I explained why I had refused to see her, and why I hadn't fought to keep us together, Bianca began to sob. Tentatively I moved to hug her, half expecting her to push me away. I was still waiting for her to tell me she hated me, especially now that she knew everything.

I had frozen, I had let us sit there for two days. We could have starved to death or died of dehydration, and I still didn't entirely know if I would have been able to do anything before it got to that point. The people I knew, my friends, Harry and Joel, they all understood when I told them that I had completely shut down and hadn't been able to move, but I was fully aware that there would be people who wouldn't stand. Maybe Bianca would be one of those people.

But, to my relief, when I placed an arm around her shoulders, she turned to hug me back, clinging to me and making me cry, too.

"I'm sorry," Bianca said once our tears had subsided enough that we could let each other go. "I didn't think I'd get so upset. I genuinely don't remember much about that day, or that time, only the odd flash."

"You have nothing to apologise for, I'm sorry that was the story I had to tell you." Tearing off two fresh squares of kitchen paper and handing one to her, I glanced down at my phone and saw it silently ring. Harry would have to wait. "What do you remember?"

Bianca shrugged and wiped her face, then took a large gulp of wine. She appeared shell shocked, like she was in some sort of daze and was unsure if everything she'd just heard was a dream.

"I remember you mainly; singing to me, taking me to the park," she finally said, closing her eyes and smiling as she pictured the foggy memories. Opening them up again, she added, "I have some vague memories of Paula, but I can't honestly ever picture her, I just know she was there. I'm guessing they were when you were at school. I don't remember Ollie at all, and he isn't on my original birth certificate. Do you have any idea who could be my real dad?"

I shook my head sadly, "I don't, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I don't know who mine is either."

We fell silent and the only sound came from the kitchen clock on the wall. It was a shame she didn't remember the man Paula had claimed was her father, Ollie, but relieved she couldn't remember Paula. The Paula I'd had to reluctantly leave to look after my baby sister was not the one I'd wanted Bianca to remember. I wished Bianca had known what our mother had been like before she was swallowed by addiction.

"I am sorry that I didn't do more, that I didn't grab you and go get help. I'm sorry that I didn't refuse to leave your side." As emotion constricted my throat again, I coughed to clear it and quickly dabbed at the fresh tears in my eyes. "I was a child, and I thought I was doing the right thing." Then, before I could stop myself, I heard myself ask, "Do you hate me?"

Stunned, Bianca considered me for a few seconds, no doubt asking herself just how honest she wanted to be. She had gotten what she came for, I had told her the details she needed to fill in the gaps that the adults couldn't fill, she could easily tell me that I had been a coward and that she wanted nothing more to do with me.

However, she shook her head. "No, I don't hate you. I don't fully understand your actions or decisions, perhaps, but... I don't know, I might have to think about how I feel. But I don't hate you."

Nodding, I once again fought back tears. There was still a chance she could hate me, but for the moment I felt a weight that had sat on my chest for so long I barely noticed it anymore lift off me. I tortured myself for years, thinking that when Bianca knew the truth she would hate me, that she would deem my actions as purely selfish, but she didn't.

"How do you feel now that you know everything?"

She took a deep breath and expelled the air through puffed out cheeks. "Christ, I don't even know. In one way I feel better, and it's not as bad as I had imagined it could be, but in others it's... it's so much worse. You must hate having to tell that to people."

I chuckled and thought back to a time when I thought I would never find the courage to tell anyone what had happened, and how Harry had been the first one to know everything. "I try to avoid it when I can. But, it's gotten easier. A fuck-ton of therapy and patient friends."

Glancing at my phone as it lit up again, I saw Harry's name and realised he was probably back home and was calling to see if he could come over.

"If you need to answer your phone, then feel free. I need to check on Finn before he goes to bed, and I don't think I can handle any more sadness." Bianca said, rising from her chair and grabbing her own phone.

I accepted Harry's call as she left the room, experiencing the usual butterflies at the thought of seeing him, but even more so after the events of the previous two weeks. I didn't want to go back to relying on anyone to be my strength, and especially not Harry, but I longed to feel his arms around me and to know he was by my side when I needed him more than ever. He wasn't my strength, but he was the voice beside me, telling me I was strong enough.

"Hi, baby, you okay?"

"Hey, babe, I'm fine. I'm knackered from the journey. I was going to have a sleep before I came over to yours, but I can't sleep in my bed without you in it anymore." Pausing to yawn, he then asked with a slow, sleepy voice, "Can I come over, or is Bianca still there?"

As I checked to make sure I was still alone, I said, "She's still here. But if you feel up to meeting her, then you're more than welcome to come over. Or I can drive over to yours later if you're feeling too tired."

Yawning again, I just about understood what he was saying. "No, I want to meet her!" He then clearly added, "I'll be over in a bit."

I told him to drive carefully, and then we hung up just as Bianca came back into the room with a bright but slightly forced smile. It still took me by surprise just how much she looked like Paula. Sitting back down in her seat, she drained her wine glass. Things were awkward for the first time all day, and there were probably still questions she wanted to ask, but was too mentally exhausted to. Her silence made me wonder if she's waiting for the right time to leave.

"Everything alright at home?" I asked. "I bet he's missing you."

"This wine is going straight to my head," Bianca grinned. "Yeah, he's fine. I caught them just before he was about to have his bath, so I got to say goodnight. I don't think he's missing me at all, if I'm honest, he's getting made a fuss of by Ellis and his mum and sister. Is everything alright with you? Do you want me to go?"

Slightly overeager, I exclaimed, "No! No, I'd like you to stay. Unless of course you want to?"

I waited with bated breath, feeling as though it was her forever to answer. "No, I'd like to stay a little bit longer."

"Wonderful!" Beaming, I got up from my chair and noticed just how much the wine was going to my own head. I went to the fridge and grabbed some snacks I'd bought just in case we were hungry and began to set them out on a large plate. As I cut up a stick of bread, I said, "I hope you don't mind, but Harry's coming over. He's just flown home from Japan for the funeral, and he wanted to meet you. Is that okay?"

"Of course, I'd love to meet him, too. What a sweetheart for flying all this way to be with you. What was he doing in Japan?"

Setting the plate down along with cutlery, it dawned on me that Bianca was going to be the first person I told about Harry and I. Everyone else either knew our history, or they found out via someone else. For the first time - since I'd told Rose I'd slept with him as we strolled through the park eating ice-cream - I was going to say the words 'My boyfriend is Harry Styles'.

Not wanting to sound like I was a crazy fantasist and send her running to the door, I decided to broach the subject slowly.

"He's a musician, so he's on tour at the moment. That's how he knew Terry, and how we met, his old and new band work with my ex-husband's company."

With a mouthful of bread and cheese, my sister's eyes widened with interest as she chewed quickly to speak. Swallowing, she asked with a cheeky smile, "Oh, a musician, eh? Anyone I'd know?"

I heard myself giggle nervously, suddenly apprehensive to tell her who I was dating. Joel's reaction when finding out about Harry and I had left a tiny bit of a wound, and I imagined Bianca having the same reaction of 'why on earth would Harry Styles be dating you?!' But I wanted to tell her before Harry arrived rather than spring it on her, and I wanted to make sure she wouldn't leave and tell anyone.

"Uh... well, I guess it depends on the type of music you like, I suppose. You didn't happen to have any One Direction posters on your wall, did you?"

Bianca laughed and pulled a face of slight disgust, "Ugh! God no! I hated that shit."

At first, I felt slightly offended on Harry's behalf, but I realised that perhaps she'd probably been that little bit too old to enjoy them without thinking it was uncool, and then I found it hilarious and I belly laughed for the first time since Terry had died. She looked at me slightly perplexed as I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes.

"Why's that so funny?" She asked, chuckling with bemusement. "Oh no! Oh god! Did he work with them?"

"You could say that," I giggled. "Harry was in One Direction"


	9. The Air That I Breathe

Bianca looked stunned as I gave her an abridged version of how Harry and I got together - filling in the gaps I'd left when I'd told her about Will and I earlier in the day. As I spoke, I could see the cogs turning in her mind, trying to figure out if I was either a crazy nutjob and she couldn't trust anything I'd told her, or if I was simply making fun of her.

"You... Let me get this right," she said once I'd finished talking, "you're dating Harry Styles?"

Excited I could finally give the answer I never thought I'd ever get to give, I grinned, "Yes. Yes I am."

"Harry. Styles. _'What Makes You Beautiful',_ X Factor, the fella who all my friends in school were dead sure they were going to marry. That Harry Styles?"

"The very same," I answered with a nervous giggle.

"Wow." Shaking her head, Bianca puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. "I honestly don't know you well enough to know if you're fucking nuts or if you're just taking the piss out of me and the guy just happens to have the same name."

Her response undeniably stung. She was right, we didn't know each other well enough, but it hurt she seemed to think that the idea of Harry Styles dating me was so inconceivable. Granted, if someone I had just met and barely knew told me they were in a secret relationship with one of the most famous men in Britain - if not the world - then I would probably be skeptical until I saw it for myself, too.

Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I had been living in a fantasy world. Maybe I'd never recovered from my breakdown, and I was imagining that Harry and I had reconciled, or maybe we'd never even met. Had anyone ever actually seen us in a room together? Or, had I had too much sun and needed to switch from wine to water? Remembering that a fair few people had seen us in the same room, I decided it was most definitely the latter

Getting up to grab a jug of water from the fridge, I said, "I promise it's neither, but he should be here in a minute and you'll see I'm not crazy. At least, I hope not."

Bianca remained silent, and I imagined she was waiting for the moment I suddenly got a phone call from 'Harry' saying something had suddenly come up and he was no longer coming.

As she accepted my offer of a glass of water, she finally spoke again, "I guess it's kind of romantic that you both went off and lived your lives then realised you want to be together. I just think all the cheating is... I don't agree with it."

"It's not something either of us are proud of, I'll admit that. But, the truth is none of it was exactly black and white. Cheating is wrong, that's true, but none of us did it for fun or without guilt. Will was trapped in a lie, I was trapped in a miserable marriage, and Harry was too young for the situation he'd gotten himself into." Shrugging, I felt a lurch of excitement when I heard what sounded like Harry's car reversing onto the driveway. "It was a mess, and that's why it didn't work out. We're trying to keep things honest this time, I guess. And simpler."

"That's true. And I'm not judging you, I-"

"I'd understand if you were. I know people will."

Hearing Harry's key in the lock, the lurch turned into a rush and suddenly I was overwhelmed by a delayed excitement over finally getting to see him again. I'd missed him and needed him more than ever since Terry passed away, but I hadn't had the time or energy to realise just how much. As it all hit me, I knew that if Bianca wasn't in the room, I would have gone running into Harry's arms.

Instead, I got up calmly from my chair and went to meet him in the hallway. As I passed her, I chuckled and placed a hand on my little sister's shoulder when she joked, "He's got a key? It must be serious."

"Lil?" Harry called, bending over to give Stan fusses as he rubbed ginger hair against his corduroy trouser leg. In his free hand, he held a small bunch of pink roses, and I adored him for stopping to get me some despite how tired he probably was. Lifting his head up when he heard my footsteps on the hardwood floor, he left Stan and came to meet me halfway, a sorrowful smile slowly spreading across his face that perfectly encapsulated exactly what I was thinking - we hated the circumstances that had brought him home, but we were glad to be together again. "Hi."

"Hey," I mumbled, fighting back tears as his arm circled my waist and he brushed his lips against mine. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I felt all the weight of putting up a strong front for Will temporarily lifting off my shoulders. "Are you sure you're feeling up to this, baby? You look knackered. We'll understand if-"

"No, no, I want to. I'll be fine."

"I've missed you, thank you for coming home to be with me."

Harry turned his head, kissing my cheek and my jaw until I moved so our lips met again. "I've missed you, too, baby. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back."

Reluctantly pulling away from the safety of his arms, I frowned and shook my head, "You could have easily not come at all, it's a long way to travel. I'm just grateful you're here."

Handing me the roses in his hand, Harry kissed my forehead, "Nowhere's too far away when you need me, Lil."

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth as it wobbled, amazed that when I thought I couldn't love him any more, he would say or do something which made me fall deeper in love.

In the short time I'd known my sister I'd come to know that she wasn't easily phased, and, other than the quickest double take, Bianca remained cool as Harry and I stepped into the kitchen.

She got up out of her chair to meet him, and purely for my own benefit, I said, "Bianca, this is Harry, Harry, this is my sister, Bianca," I said, unable to believe that my two worlds were colliding.

Watching them hug each other hello, I was once again close to tears. It was only Bianca briefly letting down her guard and mouthing 'oh my god!' at me over Harry's shoulder that stopped me from bawling my eyes out. The love of my life meeting the sister I never thought I'd see ever again was something I'd only been able to dream about (mostly in horrible nightmares that stayed with me for days) but there they were, hugging and telling each other how nice it was to meet at last. Harry had met most of the people who were more than family to me, but him meeting the person who actually shared the same blood as me, that was a different kind of wonderful.

**-**

Bianca didn't stay for much longer after Harry arrived, but thankfully in the short time we were all together everybody got along fine. We moved from the kitchen to the front room so we would be more comfortable, and mostly spoke about her son, Finn.

She showed us some photos and videos, apologising with an embarrassed chuckle, "I suddenly miss him so much!"

"Hey! That's my nephew, I will never tire of you talking about him," I said as she passed me her phone so Harry and I could watch a video of Finn taking his first tentative steps into the open arms of Bianca's fiance, Elis. "Those chubby little thighs and the steps on his tippy-toes are too much."

Feeling Harry's hand on the small of my back, I glanced at him and got butterflies from the quick look he gave me. There was a possibility that one day we would have videos of moments like those with a child of our own; me encouraging our baby as they took wobbly, cautious steps towards a beaming Harry. I felt an ache in my womb like I'd never experienced before, and I could picture it so clearly that I allowed myself to believe that maybe it was genuinely going to happen.

I walked Bianca to the underground while Harry stayed back at the house. It was still balmy despite the sun being lower in the sky, but there was a light breeze that felt wonderful on what had been a hard but cathartic day.

"Harry seems lovely," she said, linking her arm with mine again the moment I closed the metal front gate behind me. "You seem so happy together." She chuckled as she added, "Ahh, I remember when me and Elis were like that."

Smiling from ear to ear I replied, "I'm glad you think so. I hope I can meet Elis soon, and see Finn again."

"I'm not sure when I can come down again, I definitely don't know about Elis."

"Well, me and Harry will be going up North to visit his mum when he finishes the tour." My heart started to race and I wasn't sure if it was the wine, the heat, or the thought of going back to my hometown. "I'm sure we could come visit you, too. I haven't been back to Liverpool since I left for Ibiza, but... I think maybe it's time I did."

"I'd like that, and all my family wants to meet you. Mum's already added you to her Christmas card list." Bianca briefly laid her head on my shoulder as she quickly gave my arm a tight, loving squeeze. "Maybe it'll be good for you, for both of us."

I nodded wordlessly. It was hard to know if being in that city again _would_ be good for me, or if it would be a huge setback. Liverpool represented a time in my life I had no interest in dwelling over any longer. From what I'd heard, the city had changed, and I was sure I could avoid being anywhere near the places I'd lived and had such horrible memories of, it still scared me. However, I was aware that if I wanted to develop and maintain a good relationship with my sister, then I would have to go back to where I had once belonged. I owed her that.

"There's also Nana and Grandad's house, it was left to both of us, but I'm not sure what to do with it. Elis and I take Finn there sometimes, we don't have a garden, and my mum is obsessed with hers, so it's nice for him to run around somewhere safe without his Nan hot on his tail so he doesn't mess with her pansies. We've been looking after the place, and it's nice to be there when I miss Nana."

"I haven't been there in so long," I said, remembering colourful Christmas tree lights and the feeling of being surrounded by unconditional love. "I'd like to see it again, but we can decide what we want to do when I visit."

Bianca nodded, "Okay, but there's no rush."

Reaching the entrance to the station, we hugged each other tightly. I didn't want to let her go, she already felt like someone I would miss when she left.

"Thank you for such a lovely day, I've had fun."

"Me too. Can I come tomorrow?" Bianca asked suddenly as we separated. "I'd like to come and support you saying goodbye to your friend. And I know you'll be busy but I also want to maybe spend some more time with you." She then quickly added, "I'll understand if you don't want me to. I didn't know Terry..."

Taken aback but thrilled, I placed a hand on her arm, "If you want to, then of course you can. I'd love to spend some more time with you, too."

Hugging her again, I asked her to let me know when she got back to her sister's then we said goodbye. I waited until she was out of sight, then headed back home.

The house was quiet when I returned. I expected Harry to be upstairs taking a shower, or in the kitchen looking for food. I expected, at the very least, for him to have music or the TV on, but instead I found him fast asleep on the sofa, snoring quietly with Stan on his chest. Stan was fast asleep too, his long body stretched out with a fuzzy, ginger paw resting gently on Harry's cheek.

I had never seen anything more adorable in my life.

Leaning over the arm of the sofa, I pressed soft kisses on Harry's forehead and temple and whispered, "I'm home, baby."

Stan let out a disgruntled chirp as Harry stirred, then both of them looked at me with sleepy, green eyes.

"I fell asleep," Harry muttered, stating the obvious and reaching up a hand to link his unusually ringless fingers with mine. "Was Bianca okay?"

"I noticed, and she was fine. She's going to come with us tomorrow. Will you be okay looking after her? I'll ask Rose and Dee, too."

He let out a sharp groan as Stan suddenly stood up on his chest, pushing his paws against Harry's ribcage as an enormous yawn overtook his face, making him appear far less than dignified. Settling back down in a position I liked to call 'The Chicken Cat', my firstborn looked up at me with contempt for having woken him up from his one-on-one nap with Harry.

"Of course, baby." Pulling my hand to his face, Harry pressed kisses along my thumb and up the underside of my wrist. "Come lie with us."

"Are you hungry?" I asked, kicking off my sandals.

He jerked up an eyebrow and smirked, "I didn't think you'd be in the mood for any of that, Miss James, but I'm sure I could be tempted."

"That's not what I meant, pervert. Would you like any food?"

Harry shook his head and extended an arm to grab my hand, pulling me lightly so that I would lie down with him. Carefully climbing over him, I did my best not to disturb the cat who was still glaring at me, and got myself as comfortable as possible.

Laying my head on Harry's shoulder, and hooking a leg over his, he hummed contentedly and stroked my arm. Stan closed his eyes and started to purr, his mitten-like paw kneading and flexing gently. I felt the happiest I had in weeks, just Harry, Stan, and myself, laying there, saying nothing but the occasional 'I love you'. I'd had the distracting day I needed, and even telling Bianca about Paula and the start in life we'd had, hadn't managed to derail the pleasant bonding time I'd hoped for. Harry coming home was the perfect end to a lovely day.

"I told Bianca that when we go visit your mum that I'll go to see her, too. That I'll go to Liverpool."

Turning to look at me, Harry asked, "Are you sure you're ready to do that?"

"I- I think so. You don't?"

"I honestly don't know. You've just had a lot going on this year, so I don't want you rushing into anything you might regret." He waited for me to respond, but when I didn't say anything, he continued, "Of course if you want to go, then we will. I'm just saying I want you to be sure."

"I know. But maybe I'll never be ready. There'll always be something I can find as an excuse not to have to go. It's about time I rip off the Band-Aid and just do it. She has a child, she can't always come down here."

Harry nodded in agreement before yawning widely. As he blinked away his tiredness, he asked, "Do you want me to come? Or would you prefer it if I stayed away at first."

Tilting my head back so I could kiss his cheek, "If you can deal with me probably being an emotional wreck, then of course I'd like you to come, but don't feel you have to."

"James, when will you get it in your head that I want to be there for you when things like this happen?" he chuckled, touching his nose against mine. (He'd taken to calling me by only my surname, and I couldn't deny that I liked it.) "I'm here for the funeral, I'm here for when you go to Liverpool, and when I can, I'm here for everything else. Okay?"

"Okay," I grinned. "Okay, Thank you. I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

**-**

I showered before bed, and when I came back into the bedroom, Harry was already fast asleep. Trying not to wake him, I quickly got into my pyjamas, and slid under the covers next to him, smiling at how sweet and peaceful he looked.

Reaching for my phone, I noticed a message from Bianca.

**Bianca**

_Hi! I just got home! Thank you for a wonderful day, and thank you for sharing with me what must be a very hard thing to talk about. I'll let you know when I'm on my way tomorrow. Love you_ 💓

As I sent a reply and the details for the funeral, I grinned from ear to ear. I'd always told myself that she would hate me, and she would definitely hate me when I told her the truth, but she didn't - she loved me.


	10. The Night

Of all the parties and events Rose and I had expected to plan, Terry's funeral was not one of them. But, there we sat, in a church, with her hand in one hand, and Will's in the other.

The crematorium was full of people who'd loved and known Terry. It was tragic to see so many faces who only a few months before had been at Will and Terry's wedding, the list of people we'd had to contact to inform them of Terry's death having almost been completely identical. Their mournful expressions, and looks of shock, seemed to only further highlight just how unfair the whole thing was. But I knew Will took comfort in the amount of people who'd shown up, and how far they had come to say goodbye to the love of his life. He didn't say it, he just sat with his eyes fixed firmly on the solid oak coffin, but I knew what it meant to him to see how much his husband was loved and respected.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Harry watching me closely. He leant forward to ask in a whisper if I was okay, and I nodded I was fine. Although I hated that we couldn't sit together, we'd both agreed Terry's funeral was not the place for us to draw attention to our relationship, and I needed him to make sure Bianca was looked after. They sat - along with Jeff - in the row behind us, and I was so grateful for all three of them taking the time to come. Bianca hadn't even met Terry, she had no other reason to be there other than me, but it eased the aching sense of loss knowing she'd wanted to come to support me.

The service was lovely, and perfectly Terry: lots of laughter, terrible jokes, music he loved, and an enormous amount of love for a man so special to us all. A few people spoke, but it was Terry and Will's other business partner, Marcus, who had been asked to speak on behalf of the family.

He spoke of the first time he and Terry had met, at Glastonbury festival in 1979. Their tents had been adjacent to each other, and Marcus had been a budding musician, so he'd been playing his guitar, which caught the attention of Terry. They'd spent an hour or two talking about musicians and bands they loved, then ended up dropping acid together. Their friendship was sealed as they could practically see the music they discussed, Terry painting the scene of each song with words and Marcus playing the guitar, believing he was Hendrix reborn. Long after the LSD had worn off, Marcus still viewed music in a whole other light, which fuelled his love for it even more. So when he graduated from university, he deviated from the long lineage of lawyers who worked for his family-run firm, and moved to London to work with Terry and Will Senior. William was charming and had connections, Marcus was the brains who knew the law and how to draw up contracts that worked for everyone, and Terry was the creative soul. Terry kept it all together, and kept them focused on the reason that they had chosen to do what they chose to do - a deep love of music.

Turning to the coffin, Marcus's voice was quiet, as if he was having one last private conversation with his friend and business partner of almost forty years. He thanked him for changing his life and making it so much brighter, and promised he would take care of Will, Mia, and Terry's son Jack. Will, who'd had a tight grip of my hand, suddenly let go, turning to comfort Mia as she began to weep. They hugged each other tightly, sharing the load of their grief, accepting that Terry was actually gone.

It wasn't until the coffin began to move towards the royal blue curtains I finally gave in to my own feeling of loss and sadness. I'd been so focused on making sure that Will was okay and arranging the funeral, that I hadn't had the time to grieve. But hearing Terry's favourite song - _'The Night'_ by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons - played at full volume as the curtains closed, and watching as he disappeared from view, a fortnight's worth of holding myself together rose to the surface and I began to sob. We'd all agreed it was the fitting choice of song for him. I couldn't remember a family party where he hadn't played it towards the end of the night, usually drunk and reminiscing about how he'd driven all the way to Wigan with Will's father so that they could go to a Northern Soul club in the casino on Wigan Pier. He would smile as he sang along, hugging Will lovingly, and at first we all thought it was because he missed his friend, but hindsight told us it was because he wanted to hold the man he loved.

Will grabbed hold of my hand again as my shoulders shook and tears rolled freely down my cheeks. We looked at each other and I could see how lost and scared he was, completely at a loss at what he was meant to do next. It all seemed so unfair that their time together had been so short, and I worried Will would once again lose the good in him and become the bitter and angry man I'd been married to. I understood too well the feeling of loneliness he was experiencing, like a small boat adrift on a sea with no land in sight. It was going to take a while for him to realise he still had so many people who loved him, and that he had a whole life to live still, but the pain was too fresh for him to comprehend that yet.

Harry was by my side the minute we started to leave the hall, brushing his hand against the back of mine in lieu of being in a position to hold it, and whispering, "Are you okay?"

All I could manage was a tearful nod, and I threw caution to the wind and entwined our fingers. I just wanted to leave, I wanted to run away with him so we could be alone and I could pretend for a little while none of what was happening was real.

**-**

The wake was held at Will and Terry's house. I had suggested that perhaps a pub would be a better idea, but Will had been adamant that he wanted it in the home he'd thrown many parties with his husband, wanting to pretend that the wake was one last party, but that Terry was merely in another room. He'd been so determined that we all had reluctantly agreed, but when he and I stepped into the house, and he saw Vicky and the few staff I'd arranged, I saw his shoulders sag and an expression on his face that said he wished we'd all gone somewhere else. He hadn't been home properly since Terry's death, and the thought of a group of people in his house had probably seemed like such a good idea when he was in my place, but the reality just seemed so exhausting to him.

As we wandered into the living room so that he could sit down and take a second to himself before everyone else arrived, I rubbed his back and said, "Just say when you've had enough, and we'll get rid of everyone, okay?"

Sitting on the sofa, Will reached up to hold my hand, and nodded. Just as I had in the crematorium, I recognised how scared and lost he was feeling, how uncertain he was about how he would cope in such a spacious house on his own, but I also saw something he and I would only occasionally share. It had become a standing joke amongst our group that Will had become a better husband to me than when we were actually married, that we were closer than we had ever been as husband and wife. However, sometimes, there were moments where we would experience a type of intimacy that could only happen between two people who had once been married - a deeper knowledge of all of the good and the bad we had in ourselves. I could see that for the first time Will truly understood the grief I'd carried with me for my mother and for the things I'd experienced as a child. He'd lost both of his parents, but this was the first time he truly felt like the bottom of his whole world had fallen out, and he knew I knew exactly how that felt. I also glimpsed the smallest glimmer of hope he could come out of it on the other side just as I had.

"Thank you, Lil, thank you for making this whole thing bearable." Tears brimmed his eyes, and he blinked them back as he added, "I don't deserve you in my life after all of the shit I did to you."

"None of that, please!" I sat down next to him, and placed my head on his shoulder. "Listen, Will, it's going to get better. I know it doesn't feel like it, but it will. We're all here for you, and we'll all get through this together."

"I know," he sniffed, convincing neither of us that he believed it. "I need a drink."

As if by magic, Vicky appeared with a glass of whisky in hand, extending it towards Will. "I thought you might need this," she said, softly. "Rose just sent a message to say they're about to arrive."

Will smiled up at her as he took the drink, then proceeded to throw half of the contents down his throat. Half grimacing, half smiling, he sighed, "Oh yes, that definitely hit the spot!"

The three of us chuckled, and for the first time in weeks, Will's smile was genuine. We all turned to look as we heard the front door open and the sound of quiet, respectful, chatter. Vicky went to greet the first arrivals, and I stood to follow her.

Running my hand over the top of my ex-husband's sandy blonde hair, I reminded him, "When you've had enough, just say."

Without looking at me, he nodded and took a deep breath, saying to himself, "I just have to get through today."

**-**

For a wake, the mood was oddly jovial, and Will's wish for it to seem more like a party than a mournful occasion seemed to be coming to fruition. I even saw him loudly, belly laughing as he spoke with Terry's younger sister, Mali.

I spent most of my time with my usual group of people, preferring not to put up with the look of surprise on people's faces when I introduced myself and they realised I was _that_ Layla (I'd had plenty of that at the wedding). Today was not about how I was once married to Will, and all of the rumours that filtered out to the people the three of us knew, so I was content to stay with the people I felt most safe with. I was also avoiding having to speak to Joel, who had visibly scoffed when he saw Harry, and who was obviously still not ready to forgive me despite our conversation.

"It's super weird being here," Harry muttered, taking any opportunity he could to lean in close when what we both actually wanted was for him to wrap his arms around me. "I haven't been here since-"

"Don't." Shaking my head, I remembered all too well the last time Harry had been to the house I had once shared with Will. It had been the day we both knew we were in love with each other, when Rose had caught us, and before he disappeared to start dating someone else. It had been a beautiful moment which had been tainted because he was scared, but I understood why he was bringing it up. "Not something I particularly want to think about when I'm a split-second from crying, but it was strange for me the first few times I came back after leaving, too."

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze sweeping my face for any signs that he had truly upset me.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago." Smiling, I nudged him softly with my elbow. "We've come a long way since then."

For the second time in one day, we took a risk, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss on my cheek. "Haven't we just?"

"You're doing an awesome job playing it cool, guys," Jeff laughed, rolling his eyes at Bianca and making her chuckle.

Harry threw me a mischievous look and draped an arm around Jeff's shoulder, planting a big, sloppy kiss on the side of his face. "Don't worry, Jeffrey! I still love you too, mate!"

As we all laughed, and Rose quietly teased me about having to keep an eye on Jeff, I spotted Mia browsing the shelves that had once housed my record collection, but was now home to Terry's far more impressive one. She seemed to be searching for something in particular, skimming her manicured fingers over the spines of the records as she peered closely at the titles. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled it out, gazed at it for a few seconds, before bursting into tears. I glanced around to see if anyone was nearby to comfort her, but she was all alone, so I swallowed my pride and carefully approached her.

"Mia? Are you okay?" I asked, gently touching her arm.

Raising her head, Mia looked at me with wide, blue eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She held out the record for me to look at - a well-used copy of ' _Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds_ ' - and said, "I remember Dad listening to this a lot when I was little, he'd sit in his office and listen to it with his eyes closed."

"My mum had this, too. I would always get freaked out by the illustrations."

She nodded in agreement, "Me too, but I was also weirdly fascinated by them, too. He would put _'Forever Autumn'_ on over and over, and even as a kid I knew he was watching me, waiting for me to 'get it' and understand what it was he loved about music. The song just made me sad."

"It's a sad song, and kind of creepy."

"He would do that a lot, with me and Jack, but neither of us quite felt the passion he did." Wrapping her arms around the square sleeve, she hugged it to her chest. "I wanted to, I would try and feel something when he'd play us songs he loved, especially when he and Mum were divorcing and he wasn't around so much. I wanted something we could bond over, but I was perfectly happy to listen to _'The Top 40'_ , or watch _'Top of the Pops'_."

"You got close eventually! He loved you and Jack so much, he was so proud of both of you. He loved you regardless."

"I know that now, but it took a long time to realise it. Jack and I hated Will for a long time, do you know that?" I shook my head, and she chuckled, "We were jealous of how close they were, and we thought it was because Will was passionate about music and about taking over the family business. In fact, Dad and I only got close after I found out about their affair and didn't hate him for it, or for being gay."

We both fell silent, realising that our unspoken feud had meant we hadn't even discussed her role in Will and Terry's affair. We were always cordial when in each other's presence, but our friendship had been built on a lie, and I heard on more than one occasion through mutual friends - Vicky being one - that she had never actually liked me. I'd always felt like an outsider when the four of us had been together, listening as they swapped stories of the times they'd shared before I entered the picture, smiling and nodding as though I didn't feel left out. Mia's 'friendship', in the grand scheme of all of the things that had happened to me, was not an enormous loss, so I'd never felt the need to speak to her about it.

Clearing my throat, I asked a question I'd often wanted to ask her, but never found the right time. "How long did you know about them?" I saw her hesitate, aware that her father's funeral was hardly the time or place to get into a slanging match. "I honestly don't care, I'm over it, but I'd like to know."

"It was while you were on honeymoon." Seeing my eyes widen in shock, thinking I'd been lied to about when the affair had started up again, she was quick to clarify, "They weren't together! Dad was simply... he was struggling with Will being a married man."

"He told you?"

"I found some messages on his phone, old ones he had saved. He still had one of those Nokia phones everyone knew how to unlock, and I knew he was upset for some reason."

There was a lengthy silence as a huge amount of old pain stirred, and I experienced a sadness that any pleasant memories I would ever have about Terry were always going to be tainted by the affair. I had some of the most wonderful times of my life with him, and I truly loved him like the father I never had but always wanted, but our relationship was undeniably complicated. It dawned on me that the reason I had stuck to my close friends and the people who either didn't know him, or knew everything that had happened, was because everyone else only had happy, positive stories to share about him. What Mia was telling me only reminded me that Terry wasn't the beacon of perfection they were all making him to be, certainly not to me.

Sighing, I reached into my handbag and dug out a fresh tissue and my compact so Mia could tidy her make-up. She accepted it, then grabbed hold of my hand, and placed it on top of the record.

"He always hated what they did to you, they both did," she said, looking me dead in the eye for the first time in four years. "You were the child he always wanted."

"Mia, stop. Don-."

"I don't mean that Jack and I weren't loved, or that we were a disappointment to him. I know that's not the case, despite how it felt sometimes. But you were the daughter who understood what he loved about music, and I was jealous of the bond you two had." A diamond like tear rolled down her cheek, but she made no effort to let go of my hand to wipe it away. "I just want to say to you, while we're being honest, that I know that he was as close to a dad you've ever had, and I was jealous of that. I was pleased to encourage the affair because Will made him happy, but also because I was jealous of how close you were. But, I also want you to know that he loved you just as much, and you were as much of a daughter to him as I am. His love for you was never a lie."

Lowering my gaze, my vision blurred, and a swell of confusing emotions filled my chest, making it hard to breathe. I appreciated Mia's honesty, and even how unapologetic she was. I was grateful that she was validating the grief I felt that was akin to losing Paula, if not worse. She could have said nothing, keeping the loss of her parent to just her and Jack, but it touched me that she knew what her father meant to me too. Her words were more of a comfort to me than anything anyone had said to me since I felt like I was intruding on their grief at the hospital.

"Thank you," I said, voice cracking as I struggled to keep some level of composure. "I loved him very much, and I appreciate you telling me that."

Mia let go of my hand, and turned her head to look at the records, "I don't know if you know this, but Dad left them all to you."

"Will mentioned it." Taking a deep, steadying breath, I then said, "Of course if you and Jack want any of them, just let me know."

"Can I keep this one? It's the only one that I clearly remember him listening to."

"Of course!"

Turning back to me, she gave me a tearful smile, "Maybe I'll get what he loved so much about it now."

We hugged each other, knowing it didn't mean we were suddenly going to be the best of friends. The person who had connected us was no longer around, but we had at least laid any hatred, jealousy, or bitterness to rest. Parting as her husband, Phillip, came to get her so that she could say goodbye to one of her elderly relatives, I watched as they walked away together.

Clear as day, I could picture Terry's face, smiling from ear to ear, thrilled that some good had come from such a dismal day.


	11. Parade

I was still watching Mia when Joel came over to talk to me. I'd been trying to avoid him, but he took me by surprise by giving me a sympathetic smile, then hugging me warmly.

"How're you doing?" He asked, leaning against the shelves filled with records, and taking a sip of his beer.

Joel, like everyone else there, was dressed all in black apart from his white shirt. He'd grown a bit of facial hair that really suited him, he always smelled incredible, and he was looking fantastic. I didn't feel any attraction to him anymore, but Joel was never going to be an ex where years down the line I would wonder what the hell I had been thinking being with him, no matter how much I knew we weren't meant to be together.

"I'm doing okay, thanks. You? It's good to see you, I like the beard." I reached up to touch his cheek, but pulled my hand back, thinking better of it with Harry nearby.

Shaking his head at my hesitation, Joel put his glass down and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm fine. It still hasn't quite sunk in yet that he's gone. I keep expecting to see him stroll around the corner at the office, or hear him singing to Maggie first thing in the morning." He sighed and gave a shrug, "The place just won't be the same without him."

The void in my chest hurt thinking about it. "I imagine that's why Will's putting off going back."

"Is he still staying with you?"

"Yeah, but I think he wants to stay here tonight."

Falling into an awkward silence, I glanced over at Harry. He was watching Joel and I closely, but turned away when our eyes met, turning his attention back to whatever Jeff and Rose were discussing. I was about to excuse myself from the conversation, feeling satisfied that I'd been polite enough to my ex-boyfriend and that we had exchanged a decent amount of pleasantries, when he spoke up again.

"I don't think your _boyfriend's_ too pleased you're talking to me." There was a slight hint of a smirk on his lips, no doubt pleased he seemed to be getting to Harry. "He's no doubt pissed that he couldn't get me sent on a 'business trip' for this."

Rolling my eyes, the veil of amicability slipped away, and my tone became hostile as I snapped, "Stop it, Joel. Harry is fine with us talking. Can we please just play nice for today? Is that too much to ask?"

Joel held up both hands, then placed them on his heart as he looked me in the eye with sincerity. "You're right, I'm sorry." He then added, "but it's tough to see you two together."

I softened, feeling guilty for losing my temper. "I know, but he's only here to support me and pay his respects to Terry, we're not trying to flaunt our relationship in front of you. In fact, as far as everyone's concerned, he's just like any of the other clients who turned up today."

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll be a grown up and be polite." Joel's smile was genuine as he changed the subject, nodding towards someone behind me. "I take it that's Bianca then?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my sister chatting away happily with Dee and Vicky. We hadn't really had the chance to talk properly since we'd left my house that morning, but it gave me such a feeling of warmth to watch her be comfortable with my friends.

"Yeah, that's her," I beamed, unable to contain the smile on my face. "She came down from Liverpool so we could talk, and when she found out about the funeral she offered to come. It's as close as I'll get to her and Terry meeting, I guess."

"She looks just like you."

Joel's tone was so gentle and kind that, for a moment, I could pretend that there wasn't any ill-feeling or animosity between us. It made me sad to think that had Bianca turned up the year before, that he would have been the one by my side as I got to know my sister again. He had been one of the first people outside of my close circle of friends to know about Bianca and Paula, and he had helped me and supported me while I dealt with all of that in therapy. Once upon a time, I'd have dragged him across the room, excited for them to finally meet, but not anymore.

Instead, I stayed where I was and simply replied, "So I am told. The resemblance is definitely there."

"It must be strange to know that your little sister is closer in age to your boyfriend than you are. You look so alike he might trade you in for the younger model."

Joel was laughing at his little joke, but I couldn't hide that he'd hit a nerve, or that it seemed like a well aimed low-blow. No matter how he may have meant his comment to be, I expected better from him, and all he had done was further my belief that he wasn't the one for me. I didn't know the Joel stood before me, he wasn't the one I had dated, the one who had helped heal my fragile heart and give me hope that Harry and Will hadn't completely broken me when it came to relationships. I understood that he was hurt, but the cheap shot was painful and almost unforgivable.

Louder than intended, I told him, "You're a dick. That was unnecessary."

He continued to laugh, but I could start to see the shame of having offended me after promising to play nice, starting to creep in. Trying to play the comment down, he said, "Layla, I'm sorry, it was just a joke." His fingers grazed the sleeve of my dress as he attempted to stop me from walking away. "Lilly, please don't storm off, I was messing about!"

Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed. Joel had come to me while I'd still been processing the conversation I'd just had with Mia. And, having initially admired her candour, her honesty alongside Joel's snide jabs were all too much for me to take. Especially on a day when I was already emotionally vulnerable. I needed a moment alone. I needed silence.

Heading upstairs where it was quiet, I found myself in a room I hadn't stepped foot in since the day I moved out of the house. Everything was different, everything from the wallpaper, the bed, even down to the bedside lamps, but it was still eerie to be in the bedroom I had once shared with my ex-husband. The room was no longer the master bedroom (the happy couple having quickly moved into the slightly smaller room at the front of the house), so everything was perfectly neat and tidy. It was just like any other room, in any other house, but the memories were so loud to my fragile emotions, that it felt like it was crammed with hundreds of different versions of my former self. I had long since shed the old Layla, but she was still there in that room - unhappy, lonely, and lost.

I didn't want to leave - finding an odd sort of comfort in the weight of the past me with the added benefit of hindsight - so I went and sat on the edge of the bed, putting my head in my hands.

I felt so tired. I'd gone upstairs because I was upset by Mia and Joel's words, but I could no longer really remember what they'd said that was really so bad. The truth was, it didn't really matter what they had said to me. In the grand scheme of things, I had gone through so much worse. I didn't really care that Mia disliked me, or that Joel was still harbouring a grudge, all I cared about was how much I missed Terry. And how angry I was that it seemed like I was the only person at the funeral who didn't have only pleasant, misty-eyed stories about him. That's really why I'd taken Joel's jibe to heart when usually I would have given him a public dressing down and gone back to my friends - he had hit a nerve.

I found Terry, in my bed, with my husband, in the very room I sat in. That was hardly a cute anecdote to share with the other mourners while they reminisced. It also reminded me that after a discovery like that, it wasn't hard to imagine that maybe Harry could swap me for a younger model one day, even if that person was my sister.

Hearing the bedroom door creak, I raised my head and smiled when I saw Harry.

"Hi, baby." I felt exhausted, ready to go home and close to crying, but Harry appearing was like sunshine on a rainy day. "What are you doing up here?"

"I came looking for you," he said, coming to sit next to me on the bed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... It's been a long, confusing day, and I just needed a moment."

"Joel told Rose he'd said something that pissed you off." Raising his hand, Harry brushed a few wisps of hair behind my ear. "He suggested one of us should come find you to make sure you're okay. Do you want me to leave you alone for a little longer?"

I shook my head and leaned against him, "No, I'm glad you're here."

"What did he say to you?"

"It doesn't matter. He's hurt and I already know that. I'm just being especially sensitive." Linking my fingers with Harry, I noticed how calmer I was simply by having him there with me.

It had been a crazy week; I had Will staying in my house, I'd had to help plan a funeral, and on top of that, Bianca was visiting, too. I hadn't really had the chance to focus on Harry, but being alone in a room with him that had traces of the former Harry and Layla, (the ones who'd had to snatch moments alone, or who'd never envisioned the possibility that they would ever be a proper couple) I could finally grasp how strong our relationship was becoming. He had flown halfway around the world, from tour, to be with me when he could have easily said he wasn't in a position to. He had been more than understanding when I told him Will was staying with me, and he had spent the day looking after my sister, who he had met only the day before.

It's common after losing a loved one to reevaluate your life and the people in it, and to make changes for the better. I knew I was surrounded by people I loved, and who loved me - I had made sure of that - but Harry was a new factor in the new life I had built, and he hadn't always been a positive for me. But he sat next to me as the pillar of strength I needed, and my love for him deepened beyond anything I could have ever imagined, more than I even imagined was possible.

"I love you," he said, as if he could read my mind. "Today must be really hard for you, and I'm proud of you for being so strong.

"Baby, you're going to make me cry." My cheeks reddened, and my bottom lip wobbled before I quickly caught it between my teeth. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him with a teary-eyed smile, "I'm just so grateful you're here, Harry, it means the world to me."

Gently stroking my cheek, he returned my smile. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be." He pressed a soft and tender kiss to my lips, then chuckled, "Okay, maybe I'd like it if we weren't in this house. Or this room."

For the sweetest moment as we kissed again properly, I forgot about everything I was worrying about. Harry cupped my face in his hands and our tongues met, and I let go of everything outside of just the two of us - nothing else mattered. We leaned into each other as close as we could without me sitting on his lap, his arm curving around my waist to press his palm against my lower back. The last time we had been in that room together we had fought about why I had married Will, but now there was only love and hope for the future. We had come a long way, and that was clearer now than ever.

**-**

Will was too drunk to stay at the house alone. I knew Harry was hoping we would have a night to ourselves before he went back on tour, but he agreed that Will was in no fit state to be left by himself.

Bianca and Jeff had left earlier, so Harry and I poured Will into the back of Harry's car, and the three of us drove to mine. No matter how much time had passed, it was still a little awkward to be alone in a car with my ex-husband and my boyfriend. Especially when one of them was drunk and maudlin, and vocally expressing how much he loved me and what a wonderful wife I had been to him. When we reached my house, I half expected Harry to kick us both out while the car kept moving before racing off into the night with a screech of his tires. Thankfully, however, he just parked the car, put a reassuring hand on my knee, then got out to help Will inside. If I hadn't already been head over heels in love, watching how gentle and compassionate Harry was as he helped a man at his most vulnerable - who had once punched him - melted my heart.

Wanting to sober him up a little before putting him to bed, we led Will into the living room and sat him on the sofa. We took off his jacket and shoes, then Harry left to fix him some tea and toast.

"I'm sorry," Will slurred, flopping his arm around my shoulder as I undid the top three buttons of his shirt. "I'm sorry for all of the things I've done to you."

Stroking his clammy face, I shushed him. "We don't need to be talking about any of that now. I know you're sorry."

His eyes began to water, and he shrugged heavily as he looked away. "I truly think this is karma. Terry dying is my fault, it's 'cause I was so horrible to you. I didn't deserve him, and I don't deserve you."

I turned his head back so that he looked me in the eye, and tried my hardest to convince him that karma had nothing to do with him losing his husband. "Will, don't even think like that! Terry dying was nobody's fault, it's just one of those things. It's not fair, and it's tragic, but it's not your fault."

"You're so wonderful," Will said, his gaze slightly out of focus as it wandered over my face. "I love you so much, and I would have fallen to pieces if you hadn't been here for me. I'm so grateful to you for looking after me, you're so loving and so understanding, and you are so, so beautiful."

Suddenly, he lunged forward and kissed me before I could stop him. I was too stunned to react at first, hoping that he would come to his senses before I had to push him away, but when his mouth parted and his tongue tried to push its way between my lips, I planted both hands on his shoulder and shoved him back harder than I needed to. I wasn't angry or upset, I knew that the action came from a place of inebriation and grief, but I couldn't let him believe that what he had done was okay.

The kiss had been sloppy and wet, so I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and went to scold him, but froze when I saw Harry standing by the door with an empty milk bottle in his hand, and a look of pure disbelief on his face. My heart sank, and I heard Will groan as the delayed regret finally kicked in.

"You have got to be fucking joking," Harry whispered, his voice eerily calm and steady. "I think... I... am going to go."

I leapt off of the sofa and raced after him, praying I was able to defuse the situation before it erupted into something it didn't need to be. Reaching him before he got to the front door, I circled around him and threw myself against it.

"Please don't go, I am begging you." I was trying not to panic, but the devastated look on his face reminded me of the night we had last broken up. That night had started with Will acting a bloody fool, too, and I wasn't sure I could deal with losing Harry again, certainly not over something so meaningless. "I'm sorry, please stay. He's upset."

"He fucking kissed you, Layla! While I was in the house!" Harry took a step back, and I could see that he was striving to hold back from losing his temper, as well as questioning if there was still anything romantic between Will and I. "I didn't say a thing about him staying here, and I wasn't going to say anything about the love-fest in the car, but this... this is too fucking much!"

"Baby, he's drunk, and he's grieving. He just lost the love of his li-"

"Are you sure that's all it is?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Because it doesn't bloody look like it to me!"

"Harry, will you listen to me?" Placing a hand on his chest, I could feel his heart racing. "I love you. I am _in_ love with you. That kiss meant nothing to me, I didn't want it, and I know for a fact it didn't mean anything to Will either. He's miserable, and he's lonely, and he doesn't know what the fuck he's going to do without Terry. We were married, I am familiar, but he doesn't have any romantic feelings for me, and he's going to wake up tomorrow with a sore head and some serious regret." Harry let me take a step closer to him. "Please don't let us fall out over this, over nothing. I'm sorry you had to see that, but I promise it was just a stupid mistake on his part."

He was quiet while he considered if he should still leave, and I was torn between laughing and crying. The whole scenario was laughable and almost farcical that we would possibly break up over a kiss that would never happen if Will was in his right mind. I knew that it was clearly a blip in judgment - especially after all of the help he'd given to get Harry and I back together - but, the thought of losing Harry wasn't funny at all. I was fully aware that if we did break up again, there would be no going back. We would be over for good.

Eventually, he let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing both hands over his face as if to erase the vision of Will kissing me - something I imagined he had thought he would never have to see ever again. Looking at me with weary eyes, Harry muttered, "I guess we should put him to bed, then."

I tried not to give too loud a sigh of relief as I reached for his hand. I wanted to kiss him, but I could still taste Will's saliva on my lips, so I was content to just lace my fingers with his.

"I bet you five whole pounds he's already passed out," I laughed nervously. "I'll get him a blanket and a bucket, and he can stay there for the night, and we can go to bed. Okay?"

Harry hummed sceptically, threw his car keys onto the hallway table, and turned his back on me, heading into the living room.

**-**

By the time Harry and I got up the following morning, Will was already gone. Stan was fast asleep on the neatly folded blanket on the sofa, the blue plastic bucket I'd gotten for him was gone, and on the coffee table was a note.

_Layla and Harry,_

_I am an idiot, and I am so, so unbelievably sorry. I love you both, and I hope you didn't end up arguing because of my moronic actions._ _I also hope you can forgive me. Thank you for looking after me, and thank you for letting me stay, but I reckon it's about time I went home._

_I'm sorry._

_Will_

I showed the note to Harry, but he just silently nodded, then pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before heading back upstairs to shower. I would go speak to Will in a few days to clear things up and make sure he was okay, but I felt wretched that he'd gone, and that he'd taken a huge step back in his relationship with Harry. 


	12. Cheer Up London

It had become a rarity for Rose and I to actually hang out in a non-work setting, so when she asked if I fancied going to look at a possible wedding venue with her because Dee was working, I jumped at the chance. We hadn't done anything fun, just the two of us, for a long time and I missed it. I missed her being my best friend instead of just being my business partner.

Eltham Palace was a venue I'd always wanted to work at when I was a wedding planner, but never got the opportunity. Parts of the building were incredibly old, and it had even been the childhood home of Henry the VII, but there were newer parts which had been built and decorated during the 1930s that were in a gorgeous Art Deco style that was truly breathtaking.

As we strolled into the circular entrance hall, both of us gasped at the beauty of the clean-lined white furniture, the wooden panels on the walls, and the stunning white glass domed ceiling at the centre of the room. I'd seen it on plenty of occasions before, and it still made my heart flutter in awe whenever I walked in. But although Rose was making all of the correct noises, I could tell she wasn't as convinced this was the place for her as she had been in the car.

The place still had the added bonus of being one of the few places which had availability on the date Rose and Dee wanted - December 28th, their fathers' shared birthday.

"Dee wants as many pictures as possible," Rose said, snapping yet another photo, (she'd already taken so many in the short time since we'd arrived that I was certain it would have been easier to just stick a Gopro on her head so that she could film as we walked around!) "But I don't think they'll do any good."

"She's still set on Brighton, huh?" I replied - hypocritically - taking a photo of my own of the circular entrance hall and sending it to Harry.

"Yeah. Which, I'm not against, but it's so... far. And for a seaside town in late December, it could be pretty bleak."

"It could also be cosy and festive." Shrugging, I gazed up at the white glass, domed ceiling in awe. "But you don't seem particularly bowled over by this place either."

My best friend grimaced but didn't respond, but merely continued taking photographs as she surveyed the room, seemingly in search of something that would grab her and give her the feeling that she'd found the wedding venue for her.

Eventually, as we made our way upstairs to look at the rest of the house, she sighed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and said quietly, "I really don't know if I like the location. Do I really want to get married as stones throw away from... Mottingham?"

Laughter burst out of my mouth before I could stop it. She was correct that the surrounding area wasn't particularly idyllic, but she could hardly judge. "You're from bloody Bermondsey! Do you really have the right to be snobby about the delights of South East London?"

"It's precisely because I'm from Bermondsey that I can judge."

"So, you don't want to get married in this area, and Dee's dead set on Brighton Pavilion... Why are we here again?"

We ventured into the walk-in wardrobe that had been restored to replicate that of the woman who'd owned and built the Art Deco parts of the palace, and Rose immediately gravitated to the items that had been put out for people to try on. Wrapping a faux-fur stole around her shoulders, she posed and preened in front of a full length mirror.

"Mostly because you said you liked it, and because the two of us never do anything alone outside of bloody work anymore."

"Aww! You're going soft in your old age, mate," I teased, glad it wasn't only me who missed the fun us.

"Piss off!" Rose playfully scowled at me, shedding the stole from her shoulders along with her sentimentality.

**-**

She was quiet as we headed back downstairs after taking a quick gander in the bedroom designed for the previous owner's pet lemur. Having stopped taking photographs of everything in sight, I guessed she'd made her mind up that it wasn't quite what she had envisioned for her wedding day.

I, on the other hand - and I had no intention of saying anything to Rose about it - could easily picture myself getting married there. Not anytime soon, of course, but I could picture how I'd want it decorated, what colour and style of dresses I'd want my bridesmaids to wear, and what kind of cake I wanted. I even found myself wondering what kind of suit Harry would want to wear. All of the things I'd tried to make myself imagine when I was with Joel came so easily now, in fact I had to pull at the reins to control my thoughts as they got carried away thinking about Harry and me having our first dance. I wasn't ready to get married again, certainly not yet, but it felt good to daydream and think that maybe I was on the right track, even if that last time I'd allowed myself to picture a future with Harry I then found out he'd cheated on me with the actress.

"I want to ask you something," Rose said as we walked into the medieval Grand Hall, before getting sidetracked by our surroundings. Living in London, old, historic buildings were bountiful. History constantly surrounded us - some that went back to a time difficult to conceive of as being real - nestled between new, shiny buildings that somehow managed to sit side-by-side perfectly. Most days it didn't even register exactly how old the city was, but sometimes it was truly breathtaking. My best friend was having one of those moments. She leaned over and whispered, so as not to disturb the stillness, "Now, this is a bit more like it."

"You could get married in here, and have the reception, too," I replied, mirroring her hushed tone. "It looks even more beautiful with the tables and the-"

Shaking her head with a sad grimace, "Location, location, location."

"Okay, okay, fair enough."

"It's beautiful, it really is, it's just not... us."

Linking my arm with hers, I gave her a smile, and we headed towards the exit. "Rose, I love this place, but I'm not offended if you don't want to get married here. It has to be somewhere that's right for you and Dee. You obviously loved The Pavilion."

"I can't stop thinking about it!" Rose whined. "I looked at some pictures of it all dressed up for a winter wedding, and it's so beautiful and festive, exactly what we've been picturing. They even have an ice-rink! But like I said before, Brighton in December could possibly be a nightmare. Especially if it snows."

"Well, why don't we try to find a big house to stay in nearby? We can all spend Christmas there together, and it might make it less stressful to get to the venue if it does snow."

As we stepped out into the blazing hot sunshine, Rose popped on her sunglasses and began singing _'Last Christmas'_. She waved at a grumpy, red-faced couple as they strode past us and glared at her like she was a mad woman for singing Christmas songs in July when it seemed like the sun was mere inches from us. Turning to me, she said, "I actually like that idea. Dee has family in Brighton, so her parents and sisters are already talking about going to stay with them if we do decide on there, and I was going to maybe look at hotels for you, me and her, and my family, but maybe a house would be cute."

"We could cook Christmas dinner together, watch movies, and play games. And if Dee's lot are staying nearby, then they can come over for dinner, too!"

The heatwave was making it hard to picture huge roast dinners, snuggly pyjamas, and giant cups of boozy hot chocolate, but it sounded like so much fun I wanted Christmas to arrive immediately.

"Dee really does have her heart set on Brighton," said Rose, thoughtfully, "and I've always wanted to live the Wham-Christmas fantasy."

"Who hasn't?!"

"Okay, okay, I guess I'm joining Dee on Team Brighton."

I threw my arms up to the sky in jubilation, "Hallelujah!"

"Merry Christmas!"

**-**

Although there wasn't much point in doing so after Rose decided she wasn't going to be getting married there, we took a quick stroll around the palace gardens, admiring the flowers and enjoying a piece of tranquility in a busy London suburb. Rose spoke with renewed vigour about the wedding as we strolled, she was excited, and eager to get home so that she could call the venue with Dee and book it, and it made me even happier for her.

Mid-sentence, she paused, then asked, "Are you going to ask Harry to be your date?"

"Uh... I haven't really thought about it. Is he invited?"

"As long as he's still on good behaviour, then of course!" she said with a grin. "He helped with the proposal, after all. Dee was talking about inviting his friend Jeff, too. He came to the funeral, and I'm sure it would be nice if he got to know your friends in a more enjoyable environment than a bloody funeral."

"That's true. I'll speak to Harry, and he can ask them. They might want to spend the holidays with their family. It is a long way to travel at that time of year."

"Well, I'm going to get the invites out once the venue's booked, so just let me know. You've barely mentioned Harry all day, by the way. Is everything okay? Is this about Will?"

To save embarrassment on Will's behalf, I hadn't told Rose about Harry catching Will kissing me after the funeral. Other than a text asking me to go to Wales with him, Mia, and Jack to scatter Terry's ashes, we hadn't spoken. I'd gone to visit him at the house a few days later - wanting to clear the air and reassure him that neither Harry nor I were upset about it - but despite me catching the living room curtains twitch, he'd pretended he wasn't home. He was ashamed, I knew him well enough to know that, and he was avoiding me.

"You've seen him, then?" Rose nodded, and I hummed thoughtfully. "I'm not falling for the trap, what did he tell you?"

"He told me he was drunk and kissed you, and that Harry caught you. He's convinced you both hate him, but that you don't want to say it because of Terry." She stopped walking and handed me her handbag, quickly using the hair tie on her wrist to create a neat bun on the top of her head. "I told him you and Harry are fine, but he thinks he's ruined things for you again. But this time he doesn't have Terry to put it right."

Passing back her bag, I didn't reply for a few minutes, all too aware that there really had been a chance that Will had ruined things between Harry and I. We were fine, we had a holiday to Italy planned when the tour was over, and the kiss hadn't been mentioned again, not even when he asked after Will. But it could have gone very differently, and the look of devastation on Harry's face was going to stick with me for a very long time.

The major difference between the incident after the funeral and the night I kicked Harry out, was that Will hadn't had any malice behind his cock-up. He hadn't set out to cause trouble, and both Harry and I knew that. If Will had had any romantic feelings towards me, then he wouldn't have helped get Harry back into my life. Simple as.

"I'll go speak to him in a day or two," I finally said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Listen, I had to practically drag it out of him. I know you were trying not to humiliate him," she replied with a wave of her hand. "He said you went to the house. Are you avoiding going to the office?"

I didn't even try to deny it. "Yeah, I can't... I can't face it yet. That place is so filled with Terry. I tried once, the other week, but I couldn't get out of the car. Also, Joel was such a dick at the funeral, I don't want to see him, either."

"Fair enough. I don't blame you. Being at the house last night was so weird." We were both quiet for a moment, linking arms and wandering amongst the flowers as we thought of Terry. The gap he'd left was phenomenal. "So, you and Styles are okay, then?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. I just wanted to focus on our day together and talk about the wedding," I smiled. "To answer your earlier question, I would like him to be my date, of course. But, I'm trying to not get too ahead of myself. Christmas is a... It's a weird time for us."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You broke up just before Christmas last time, right?"

"Mhmm. Also, he normally goes home to his mum's, and-"

"Okay, now you're totally sounding like you're talking yourself out of even asking him," Rose said with a frown. "I'm going to send your invite addressed to Layla James and Harry Styles, then you'll have no choice but to ask."

"And what if we break up? Or he says he can't come?"

I knew my best friend better than anyone else, so I expected her to say that if that was the case then she'd get me a new invite and go beat Harry up. Instead, she took me by surprise by pouting her lips so her top lip touched her nose, and shook her head. "Nah, that's not going to happen. He'll be there."

**-**

Getting too hot, and in dire need of an ice-cold drink, we headed back to the car. Dee had called to say she'd finished work, and had been so excited by Rose agreeing to get married in Brighton that she was already on the phone to the venue to make sure the date was still available. Wine and an evening of planning were on the cards.

"Oh! What was it you were going to ask me?" I said as we got into my car and were instantly blasted with wonderfully cool air.

"Oh yeah!" Rose smacked her knee as she remembered she hadn't gotten around to the question she had wanted to ask before the grand hall 'd distracted us. "This is not going to help my case against not becoming sentimental, but-"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks. Well, as you know, Mum's walking me down the aisle, but I was wondering if you'd give a speech? Like a Best Man's speech, but, y'know, the far superior Best Woman's speech."

I wanted to yell at her for asking me when I was driving, but I was so overcome with emotion that I was struggling to speak. Flexing my fingers around the wheel, I cleared my throat to stop myself from crying and asked, "Doesn't Carol want to do it? Or your sisters?"

"Mum's going to do one, too, and I'm..." Rose took a deep breath before giggling nervously. "This is exactly why I had wanted to do this in public! I'd hoped it'd stop me from bawling my eyes out. I'm crying at everything since the engagement, and since Terry. I cried at an advert for bloody cat food the other day!" She wiped her eyes with one hand, whilst fumbling around for a pack of tissues in her handbag. Finding it, she pulled one out dabbed at her cheeks. "I'm asking you because you are my sister, you idiot. Iris and Violet looked at me like I was mental when I asked them if it was okay that I wanted you to be my Maid of Honour and do a speech. They'd already taken it as a given, and you are one of us."

Understanding exactly what she meant about being easy to make cry since Terry's passing, I gestured at Rose for her to pass me a clean tissue before my blurred vision resulted in a crash. Being asked to be Rose's Maid of Honour was already so special, but her wanting me to give a speech for her truly touched me, (even if the thought of standing up and speaking in front of all their guests filled me with dread.)

Sniffing, I asked, "Are you sure?"

"Bird, you are my family! My family thinks of you as part of the family. In fact, some of them look forward to seeing you more than they do me. Aunt Milly definitely does, and that's despite the fact you're a Scouser!" We both laughed, and for the first time ever, I accepted what she told me. For years, I'd told myself that it was sweet that she regarded me as family, and that all her family welcomed me warmly, but I knew that when it came down to it, I was just a family friend and an outsider. As I learned to lessen my guard and accept that I was worthy of love, I let Rose's words sink into my heart. The Fullertons were my family, and they had been for years. "If you don't want to do it then jus-"

"No! No, of course I want to. I'd be honoured to."

Hitting a set of traffic lights, I reached for her hand, and we exchanged watery grins. We didn't need to say 'I love you' because we both already knew it. We were a family.


	13. Hot Gossip

A newspaper landing heavily on my desk woke me from my daydreams of still being tucked up, cosy in bed. Wondering what I had done to offend Rose so badly that she would bring a copy of ' _The Sun_ ' into my presence, I looked up at her, confused. She silently pointed at the paper for me to look at it, but her face said it all.

' **1D-IVORCED** '

The big, slightly blurry and grainy picture under the white, bolded headline was one of Harry and I. We were at Terry's wake, sat in the bedroom I had once shared with Will, and Harry was kissing me. Someone had photographed or filmed us, at a _funeral_ ,when he was trying to comfort me. All with the tagline of; ' **EXCLUSIVE** \- HARRY STYLES AND THE MARRIED WOMAN'.

Someone had seen us and saw it as an opportunity to make a quick buck. And they hadn't only sent photographs, they'd told them everything about me: my childhood, Bianca, Will and Terry, and my affair with Harry. Then there was my name, my age and the ten-year age gap between me and Harry, and the name of the company, even which borough of London I lived in. It was all there in black and white, primed to be judged by anyone and everyone who read it. There was even a photo I had long forgotten about, a photo of Harry and I the night he'd turned up at one of Rose's events after he'd cheated on me, the night he confessed to it. We both looked uncomfortable, the smile on our faces not reaching our eyes, and both radiating that we'd rather be anywhere but there. We looked like two very different people from the ones we had become.

I felt sick. My stomach dropped, my heart began to race as panic set in, and the blood drained from my face. This was it.

"Fuck!" I finally exhaled. Nodding to the main office, I asked, "have they seen this?"

Rose grimaced and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Yeah, they've seen it. I caught them in the break-room trying to work out if it was actually you. Vicky's speaking to them now, so they'll know not to speak to anyone. They love you, Lil, nobody will say a word."

"I'm... Who would do this? I wouldn't be so bothered by it if it was just a photo, but everything is there. And at Terry's funeral!" My voice had begun to rise, but I stopped and regained my composure. "In the house. It was a guest, it was someone I'd probably spoken to and thanked them for coming."

"I have no idea, Lil," Rose said, quietly, though I knew her well enough to know she probably had a few theories. I had my own, but I wasn't prepared to confront them, yet, preferring to believe it was someone who stumbled upon the moment rather than think it was someone I was close to. "Have you heard from Harry? Or Jeff?"

Picking up my phone, I shook my head. Harry was about to start his last few shows, all in California, so he would be fast asleep in his bed, peaceful and completely oblivious. "No, he'll be asleep. It's only 5 A.M. in LA. Jeff too, I would imagine."

I sent Harry a message asking him to call me as soon as he woke up, but bottled out of messaging Jeff. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all my fault. Harry wasn't tabloid fodder anymore - he'd worked really hard to make sure of that - but there he was on the cover of a scummy paper, forever linked to my sordid past. I didn't want to message Jeff and be the one to inform him that someone I knew - because I knew almost everyone who'd been at the wake - had... there was a chance they had ruined everything. But maybe that had been their intention.

Rose moved to sit at her desk opposite me, leaning back in the chair and chewing her cheek, thoughtfully. I could almost see her lining suspects up one by one, trying to remember if she had noticed anybody behaving suspiciously.

"I'll get Dee to go over to yours, she can get some of your things and get Stan, and you can stay at ours tonight." I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me, "Not taking no for an answer. The press obviously knows where you live, so there's probably going to be someone there. His carrier is under the stairs, right?"

"Oh god! Are they outside?"

I hoped that Rose would tell me there weren't, that I was paranoid and being big-headed over the importance of my relationship with Harry, but she was too slow to reply. We both raced to the door, and though she managed to get her palm on the handle, she was unable to stop me from opening it. I frequently teased that she acted so tough to make up for the fact that she had weak arms, and I was willing to use that fact to my advantage.

I ignored the shocked expression of thirty or so faces as I rushed past them, heading for the entrance to the building. Reaching the glass double-doors, I stood back far enough so that I wouldn't be seen, and once again felt my stomach drop. There weren't many, but I could see them. Paparazzi sat in vans, cars, or even simply attempting to appear casual as they leant against the wall opposite our building, smoking or eating.

"Shit," I whispered under my breath. Rose appeared at my side, and though normally she'd have yelled at me for overpowering her, she just took hold of my hand and squeezed it. "I don't know if I'm ready for this. I don't know if we are ready for this. We've barely had time to really enjoy each other again."

"It's not the greatest timing, granted, but you're going to be okay. You both are."

Putting a hand on my heart, I could feel it hammering away in my chest. The article had named her and I's business, and there were photographers outside our building. All of this was going to affect her, too, in one way or another, but Rose was as cool and calm as ever, my voice of reason and logic.

"How are you so calm? Can I have some of what you're having?"

"This isn't happening to me, Lil," she replied with a shrug, then added as she leant against me, "besides, you're my family. Until you hear from Harry, and he can offer some expert opinion on what we should do, it's my job to make sure you're alright."

"Fullerton!" I cried, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. I turned and ignored her loud protests as I enveloped her in a hug, smothering her cheek in kisses. We rarely shared that sort of affection with each other, preferring to mask our love with playful insults, but I needed her to know how much I appreciated having her in my life. Harry was the love of my life, but Rose was my soulmate.

Our moment of love was interrupted as my phone began to ring loudly in my trouser pocket. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, so I pulled the phone out to silence it, but was surprised to see Harry's name on the screen.

"What are you doing up?" I asked, answering the call quickly, taken aback by how little panic there was in my voice, despite being certain I was in trouble.

Harry yawned, then replied with a sleepy, croaky voice, "I woke up needing to pee, but I've got to get up to work-out soon anyway. I got your message, Mum and Gemma have sent me messages, too. Are you okay?"

Head down, and avoiding everybody's watching eye, I hurried back to the office to speak to him alone. Speaking to him and knowing we were so far away only made me sadder that our relationship had come to light when we were apart. I wished we were in bed together, safe and in a position to block out the opinion of the outside world, I wished I didn't feel so alone and ill-equipped to handle what was happening.

"I'm fine, I suppose. Have you seen the photos?" Harry hummed that he had and I sighed, "Terry's funeral, H. His funeral. That's what upsets me the most. I feel violated, and I know that I would never be able to fully prepare for what this could all mean, but I mostly feel betrayed that someone would do that at a funeral."

"Do you have any idea who it was?"

"No. I'm trying to think, but it could have been anyone."

"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter anyway. We knew it would happen eventually." The line went quiet, and for a second I felt even lonelier. Harry was used to this, he'd had plenty of his relationships splashed all over the newspapers, and though I knew he hated it, he also knew how to block it out. But, as if knowing how his statement had sounded to someone who had no experience when it came to a public life, he quickly added, "I've already sent a message to Jeff, and he'll do what he can to find out who it was if you want to know. You just need to prepare yourself that it might possibly be someone you know, or that he might not be able to find out who it was."

"I know." Sitting down in my chair, I put the call on loudspeaker, leaned back and closed my eyes. There were moments where the growth in mine and Harry's relationship struck me, and this was one of them. His reassurance changed my perspective of his nonchalance.

Once upon a time, Harry wouldn't have been so nonchalant about our relationship being public knowledge. He'd made that clear every time we spoke about what we were doing and he told me that we should keep things a secret. Of course I knew now that he had been trying to protect me from the backlash, but he'd also had his doubts about us. Or even when there had been some rumours about us being seen leaving a bar together, Harry had downplayed it as nothing and pretended he had no idea what those people were talking about. There was no doubt in Harry's voice anymore, no panic or regret, he didn't want to put out any sort of denial and pretend we were 'just friends'. All I heard in his sleepy voice was concern that I was okay, and reassurance that everything was going to be just fine.

I opened my eyes when I heard the office door open, and Rose appeared, whispering if it was okay to come in. I nodded that it was, and she crept in.

"I understand if you can't get time off, but why don't you come to Los Angeles? I know we talked about it, and you said you were going to be busy, but..." Harry's words trailed off, but I knew that what he was implying was that he wanted me with him so he could make sure I was safe.

We had talked about me maybe going to his last couple of shows when he had been home for Terry's funeral and I'd been all for it, but I had a business to run and I couldn't really take time off when I felt like it, and certainly not when there was a chance that things were about to become chaotic. Rose and I looked at each other, both equally surprised by the invitation. It certainly signalled that Harry wasn't suddenly going to revert to his old ways and panic. My going to stay with him in LA would be confirmation that everything that had been reported was true, but as much as I wanted to be with him, would it also add fuel to a fire?

"I don't know, baby, we have a lot going on here at the moment, and I can only foresee things getting crazier now-"

"Well, seeing as any client who walks through those front doors will most likely be desperate to ask you about your love life, I can't imagine you being any use to us for a few weeks," Rose said, leaning forward in her seat to make sure Harry heard her clearly. "She's staying at mine tonight, Harry, I'll make sure she books a ticket."

"Hi, Rose! Thank you!" He sounded excited, any trace of tiredness gone.

Throwing my hands in the air, I let them discuss for a moment how Rose and Dee were going to keep me away from too much intrusion. I almost asked them if I should leave so they could talk in private. I loved and appreciated them being protective, but talking about me like I wasn't in the room did not exactly make me feel like I was in control of the situation.

Once I reluctantly agreed to their plan, and we worked out how long I would be gone, Rose left the office again to speak to Vicky about covering my absence. I couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving them in the lurch, no matter how much Rose insisted that I wasn't. The business she and I had built together was my baby, and I didn't want anything to come in the way of me doing what I loved to do, not even Harry. I had agreed to go see him, and I knew that being with him until the fuss died down was the best thing, but I wasn't overly thrilled about loosening my grip on the reins and leaving work behind.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked quietly. "It's all about to become really intense, and..." He hesitated for a second, so I picked up the phone, took him off loudspeaker and placed it to my ear so that I could hear him properly. "... And, I'm scared I'll lose you if it becomes too much."

Suddenly, the invitation to LA made so much more sense. Yes, Harry wanted to keep me safe, and wanted to make sure I wasn't going through the whole mess alone while he was miles away. But he also wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to push him away again. What he didn't realise was that he was the calm at the centre of any storm I had to weather, he was where I wanted to be when things did get too much. My head was spinning, but I was certain of that at least.

"Harry, I'm not going anywhere. Yes, I'm terrified of the reaction, and yes I wish we'd had more time together before everyone found out, but like you said, we knew it would happen eventually." Impulsively, I moved the mouse on my desk and sent my computer whirring back into life. Opening the browser, I began to search for flights. I was reluctant to leave my work behind, but I wished I could just click my fingers and be with him instantly. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I can't wait to see you." I could hear the smile in his words, and I couldn't wait to be with him. "That's what's going to get me through my work-out this morning."

"So, if people ask, should I tell them we _are_ together? Or should I attempt being vague and mysterious? Because I have a whole team of people who're going to ask."

Harry chuckled, then yawned again before answering, "You tell them whatever you want to, baby. I trust you."

We spoke for a little while longer, then after promising to call me when I finished work, he hung up.

I felt infinitely calmer for having spoken to him, and knowing that I was only a day or two away from seeing him again made me confident I could handle anything until then. What I needed to do first of all was to show my face to my team. We were all close, we all got on, and Rose and I were actively against any sort of 'Us and Them' type attitude, but at the end of the day, I was their boss, and my private life was splashed all over the papers - and no doubt on the internet - too. As much as I wanted to sculk away in my office and hide away until everyone went home, I had to try to deal with the whole situation as professionally as possible.

Fifty heads turned in unison as I walked out of the office, and I tried to fight the instinct to spin on my heel and lock myself away until home time.

Rose was the one talking now, repeating what Vicky had said about everyone changing the subject if clients started asking about Harry and I, they weren't to put anything on their social media, and they definitely weren't to answer any questions by the press. But nobody was listening to her anymore, they were all staring at me again, wanting some sort of confirmation that what the papers were saying was true.

Noticing me as I approached, Vicky turned to me and said, sweetly, "anything else you'd like to add, Layla?"

"Uh... not at the moment. The truth is, I love you all, and I would really appreciate it if you kept all of this quiet for now. I'm not asking as your boss, but as your friend."

"I am asking as your boss, though," Rose interjected, the smile that was on her lips somehow managing to be sweet and threatening all at the same time.

Everyone laughed, and then there were nods and agreements to not say anything. I could see them wanting to ask if there was truth to any of it, but none of them did. The fact that I wasn't even trying to deny anything was all the answer they needed.

"Is it true?" Vicky asked as soon as everyone moved away to get back to work, though I imagined there wouldn't be much work done for the rest of the day. "Sorry, of course you don't have to say anything."

I chuckled and tried to get used to the feeling of everyone knowing my whole life story. "Which part?"

"I mean all of it, but... did you really go through all that as a kid?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did." I shrugged as I saw pity flitter across her face. I hadn't ever told anybody about my childhood because I didn't want their pity, I didn't want to see the look on people's faces like I saw on Vicky's. "But it was a long time ago, and I'm fine now. Up until about an hour ago, things couldn't be better."

Her face split into a warm smile, and she nudged me, "Harry Styles, eh? You kept that quiet. I thought you two looked cosy when he came to the office."

Grinning at her, I felt my cheeks grow warm. "No comment."

"Well anyway! Don't you worry about it. I'll make sure nobody says a thing, I promise."


	14. Disconnect

Leaving work at the end of the day was chaotic. I wasn't too worried about myself, dealing with the press and photographers was probably something I was going to have to get used to, but I was worried about the people who worked for me and had nothing to do with the situation. We sent everyone out in pairs until it was only Rose and I left in the building.

"Right," Rose said, one second away from smearing some eyeliner on her cheeks like she was Rambo going into battle, "head down, move fast, and we go straight for your car. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"I'll be fine." I gave a casual shrug, belying that I was shit-scared and imagining the worst.

Dee had been to my house to pick up Stan and some clothes and a few other things I'd need to stay at theirs, and she'd said there were paparazzi outside waiting. She'd managed to slip in and out unnoticed by using the back entrance, but it really brought home what was happening and that they weren't going to get bored any time soon.

Rose checked through the glass doors and shook her head, "This is crazy."

"I know."

She reached for my hand and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. "Alright, well, let's just get this over with."

My heart raced as we stepped outside, the first time I'd left the building all day. I set the alarm for the night and quickly locked the door while Rose kept an eye out, my hands trembling as I tried to get the key in the lock, and sighing with relief when I managed to do it.

The two of us stuck close as we headed for my car, stepping quickly but not too much that we caught anyone's attention. We got halfway across the carpark when I heard my name being called, loudly.

"Shit!" I hissed, glancing at where the call had come from and seeing a flurry of movement in my direction.

Dropping my head down, eyes darting from concrete to my car, I kept pressing at the key until I heard the familiar clunk of it unlocking. We took larger, quicker steps, pulling the doors open and diving inside as soon as we were close enough. I felt somewhat safer in the car, but my breath was quick and my hands shook even worse than they had a moment ago.

"Fucking pond life," Rose swore, pulling on her seatbelt with such vigour that it wouldn't release, which only angered her more.

I'd expected them to swarm the car like I'd seen in movies, but when they stayed by the exit and on the wall of the car park, I realised they weren't allowed to come onto the property. Was it too late to just stay in the office? Just accept it as my permanent residence? No, I had to be brave. I'd known what I was signing up for when Harry and I sat down and agreed we were going to give our relationship a real go. The truth was out and I had to simply face it head on. How bad could it be, really?

Grabbing the bottle of water from my handbag, which I'd thrown onto Rose's lap, I took a long drink to ease the fact my mouth had gone completely dry.

"Fuck it," I mumbled, throwing the empty bottle behind me onto the back seat and starting the car. "No matter what happens, we're telling Harry I was fine."

I hadn't been so focused on how to drive a car since I'd taken my test. As we neared the exit, the lenses shifted until they were almost like solid walls on either side, but I had to focus on the wheel, not stalling the car, and indicating the correct way to go to Rose's place and not mine. I wanted to just drive away, but had no choice other than to stop until there was a gap in the traffic to pull out onto the main road.

Rose swore repeatedly under her breath, reaching to turn on the radio to try to drown out the horrible, goading things being shouted in hopes of getting a reaction out of me. I felt exposed and trapped all at once, camera lenses clunking against the window and the occasional flash of light making me wince involuntarily. How Harry - or anyone in the public eye - was able to get used to it, I didn't know, but I also didn't know how others could choose to get up in the morning and follow people around with cameras as a day job, either.

Spotting a lull in the passing traffic, I put my foot down on the accelerator and pulled forward onto the road, finally able to drive away from the chaos. I glanced at the rear-view mirror, watching as the - mostly - male paparazzi gleefully looked at their cameras, grinning as they congratulated themselves on getting a good shot. Someone, somewhere would buy the pictures. They made me feel... violated, and grubby.

After we were a little further away, Rose quietly asked, "Are you okay?" I nodded in response, my jaw locked closed, stopping me from answering. "That was fucking horrible, I'm actually shaking with anger."

There had been some choice comments shouted, which the closed windows had failed to block out, and while I had done my best to ignore them, there was no denying that they stung a considerable amount. Harry had told me that sometimes things were said by paps to get a reaction, so I'd done my best not to give them what they wanted, but the goading words were trapped in my mind and in the car. I only hoped that once I was in the safety of Rose and Dee's place, that I would be able to shed the heavy feeling in my chest.

Sensing my best friend's worried gaze on me, I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, finally managing to reply, "I guess I'll have to get used to that happening for a while. I'm sure they'll find someone more interesting soon enough."

Rose knew full well I was talking bullshit, and that I was putting up a front. At any other time she would have called me out on it, but I was grateful she seemed to understand that I was exercising some good old-fashioned self-preservation by not talking.

"How does anyone get used to that?" She asked, opening her window, and letting out the hateful words and thankfully replacing it with cooling, fresh air.

"I have no idea."

I knew about the press attention Harry got, and he had warned me that when our relationship became public there would probably be interest in it, but he had assured me it would pass quickly. However, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness to know that it was likely my life had just changed forever, or certainly for as long as he and I were together. Nothing had prepared me for what had just happened, and I was beginning to feel angry that someone I knew had sold my anonymity and privacy for money and kicks. Or, possibly, for some good old payback.

All I had to do was find out who, and why.

**\---**

Reluctantly, I followed Rose's orders and didn't go to work the following day. Dee had picked up my laptop from the house, so I spent the morning doing some work from home, which mainly consisted of opening and ignoring emails from curious clients who were ballsy enough to ask if what they'd read in the papers/online was true. I just wanted to say 'fuck it!' and tell them that it was all true, throw in some extra details that had been left out, and correct one or two of the mistakes, but I didn't. My business was important to me, so I had to remain professional, and I had to make it clear that everything that had been reported - including Harry - was my personal business, and not office gossip. The problem was I truly didn't know what to say. I was so used to keeping those parts of my life a secret that my instinct was to deny, deny, deny, but I didn't have to deny anymore.

Deciding I wasn't equipped with how to deal with this sort of thing, I closed the laptop and flopped back onto the sofa, eliciting a sleepy chirp from Stan on the other end. He glared at me through half-closed eyes, reminding me that I was in his bad books. I hadn't wanted to let him out in an area he didn't know, so he'd had to go to the toilet in his litter tray, which meant that he hated me and I was the worst mum ever.

Bored. I was bored. And there was something that was niggling at me, making sitting around not doing anything even harder.

The silence of certain people in my life was conspicuous. Will's especially.

Over dinner the night before, Rose and Dee had been trying to come up with ideas on who had gone to the press. ("Joel was being a shit that day, and he left not long after he got upset, maybe he took the photo and left", "Mia did say she was jealous of your relationship with Terry", "what about Harry's manager, Jeff? Maybe he wanted to get Harry's name in the paper?") There were plenty of other names bandied about; people who had looked shifty and had been seen hanging around the bottom of the stairs, who had no loyalty to me, or who'd been paying particular interest in Harry. I hadn't wanted to get involved, paranoia making me question if the two women opposite me may have even had something to do with it. I knew that I could easily blindly point the finger at anybody who'd been at the wake, but what I had to do was keep my cards close to my chest and not let anger blind or cloud my judgment.

But there were two names that weren't mentioned, though I knew they were on the tips of my friends' tongues; Bianca and Will. And I hadn't heard a peep from either of them. It wasn't only my life that people were talking about, but theirs, too, surely they would have something to say about it?

I'd been telling myself that Bianca might not have found out that our family history was splashed over the tabloids. The Sun has a dark history in Liverpool, and most news outlets refuse to sell it, and that maybe that was why she hadn't contacted me to see if I was okay, or to yell at me. But I was too cowardly to call her and check, just in case she told me that she knew all about it because she had been the one to sell the story. That not only had she betrayed me because I'd abandoned her, but she'd betrayed me to a newspaper I wouldn't even line Stan's litter tray with.

I would speak to Bianca when the wounds were a little less deep, but I couldn't do the same with Will. I had to go and speak to him, and ask him face to face if he'd done something foolish.

Once I knew if he'd done it or not, I could start thinking about everyone else who'd been there.

**-**

I hadn't been to Will's office since Terry died. I'd attempted to go once, after the funeral, but I didn't even make it out of the car. This time, however, I was determined to go inside and see Will.

Pushing through the glass double-doors, I was immediately struck by how cold the building felt, like someone had sucked out all of the happiness the place had once had. There was still a lot of grief and sadness in the air, and I had to pause to let the all encompassing feeling of loss hit me. I missed Terry every day, more than I allowed myself to realise, sometimes, but when I was somewhere that practically had him weaved into the walls, I couldn't help but feel the void he'd left behind.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Maggie greeted me, though not with the usual amount of warmth I was used to. "Long time no see."

It hadn't actually been that long since we had seen each other, she herself had been at the wake, but we hugged each other tightly, lingering as we recognised that a hug was very much-needed by both of us. She had worked with Terry for a long time, they were friends as much as they were employee and boss, so I knew his passing was just as hard for her as it was for the rest of us.

"Is Will in?" I asked, pulling away but keeping hold of her hand. Biting her bottom lip and nodding, concern coloured Maggie's face. "How's he doing?"

"He's... okay. He has good days and bad days." She went to speak again, but hesitated. "Today's a bad day. He's worried about you, so you've come on the right day."

"So he has seen it, then?"

"Yeah. We all have."

"Mags, listen, I-"

Maggie held up her hand to stop me, and when I clamped my mouth shut, she touched my arm gently. "Nobody's saying anything bad about you, Layla. None of us would ever judge you, certainly not when we all know what happened with Terry and Will."

Her kindness brought tears to my eyes. My whole life had been written about and exposed, and I had spent the previous night preparing to be judged by everyone I knew. It gave me some reassurance that the first person I spoke to outside of my close inner circle was someone who was sympathetic and understanding. To save myself from ruining that, I refrained from inquiring about Joel.

Wiping a rogue tear with the back of my hand, I said, "Will knew about Harry and I, it didn't say that part in the paper, but he did. He knew before I found out about him and Terry."

"I know, he told me the whole story this morning." She smiled warmly and pulled me in for another hug, one that was almost as good as one from Harry or Terry. "He's in Terry's model room. Go speak to him, you'll both feel better once you talk."

Like Maggie had said, I found Will in the storeroom where Terry kept all of the original model versions of sets the company had designed before things had gone digital. It had been Terry's pride and joy - having been the one to have created most of them - so it didn't surprise me that Will would seek refuge there on the days he missed him the most. I stood by the door for a minute, watching him through the glass. He sat on the floor, in his suit, gazing up at the metal shelves which housed set designs for almost every artist you could imagine. I couldn't see his face, but I could already recognise he looked drained. That's all I saw in Will since Terry had died - a lost and scared boy.

Gently knocking on the door, I pushed it open and popped my head inside. Will slowly looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw me, though he remained silent.

"Hey, Maggie said you were in here. Can I come in?"

"Of course," he smiled softly, patting the floor next to him.

I closed the door behind me and went to sit with him, giving a loud, aged groan as I got down onto the linoleum floor. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both of us quite content to just be and not force a conversation. I had gone there with a fire in my belly, but speaking to Maggie and seeing Will made me shift my intentions.

"It's so peaceful," I eventually said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Have you been coming in here a lot?"

Will shook his head, hand reaching out to rest on my thigh. "Only when I really, really miss him."

More silence, but it wasn't comfortable anymore. He was waiting for me to ask a question, and I was waiting for the courage to open that particular can of worms.

"Maggie told-"

"She told you a lot by the sounds of it."

Another silence, and this one was beyond frosty, it was hostile and ice-cold.

"The article, the one about me, and you, and Harry. Did you see it?"

"I did."

"Oh." I knew he had, but his unsympathetic confirmation stung. He had seen it, and he hadn't even bothered to check if I was all right. "I feel like you're angry with me, you're starting to make me question if-"

"If what?"

"I don't want to ask you. It'll only break my heart if you give me the answer I don't want to hear. I don't think I could take it."

Leaning forward, off the wall he'd had his back against, Will twisted his upper half to look directly at me. I hadn't seen this side of him for a very long time, and I felt a rush of panic and defensiveness rush to the surface.

With a twisted, almost sneering smile, he said, "you've come to ask me if I photographed you and Harry at my husband's funeral and then sold it and your story to the papers. Right?"

I looked away from his blue-eyed stare, tears brimming my eyes at how horrible he made it sound. Not solely because that was exactly what someone had done, but because he'd known it was what I was essentially accusing him of doing, because I still imagined he was capable of it.

Turning back, I prepared for whatever answer he was about to give. My steeled gaze met his. "Well? Did you?"

"No, Layla, I didn't. If I'd wanted to do something like that, I would have done it long before now, wouldn't I?" Will scoffed, looking away as he shook his head and hid his hurt.

His answer didn't make me feel better, I didn't feel reassured that it wasn't him. His shitty reaction only made him look more guilty.

"Y'know," I said, getting to my feet, "I think with all things considered, I am well within my right to think that you are capable of hurting me like this. You can get defensive, but your track record can back up my accusations."

Grabbing my bag from off the floor, I went to leave, but Will's hand touched at my arm, attempting to stop me. I shrugged him off but, standing up, he grabbed a hold of my wrist and yanked me to a stop. As I spun around to push him away with more force, I froze when I saw he had started to cry.

"I'm sorry," he wept, "I promise I didn't do it, Lil. B-but I feel like I'm responsible anyway. All those people; my friends, Terry's friends... It was in my home, and someone did that to you."

The anger burning in my chest started to peter out as I watched the broken man before me sob, openly. I didn't understand it, but he was a weakness for me, and I wanted so desperately to believe that we hadn't gone through everything we had for him to fuck it up by betraying me.

"If you didn't do it, Will, then it's not remotely your fault. I don't care about the circumstances, if I did, then I would be angry with myself for kissing Harry with a door open in a house full of people." Sighing heavily, I let go of the last bit of rage, and recognised that Will's shitty attitude was his usual defence mechanism - one he had picked up from his _darling_ late mother, Verity. "I had to ask you, I hope you understand why. But of all people... if it was you, it would break my heart."

Will nodded, using the back of his hand to wipe away his tears. Sadness sat on his shoulders like a dead weight, and I wished there was something I could do to ease it for him. We had been avoiding each other, but I wanted to be there for him.

"I swear on everything I hold dear, that it was not me. But I'm going to find out who it was, I promise. I spent last night coming up with a list of people who were there, who knew all those things about you, and about Harry." Pulling out his phone, he showed me the list of people, and - just as Dee and Rose had also speculated - Joel and Mia were top of the list. "Joel's on holiday this week, so I'll speak to him when he gets back, and I'm seeing Mia this weekend. We're going to Wales, to spread Terry's ashes."

"Oh shit!" I slapped my palm hard against my forehead as I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be going with them. Terry had always talked about summer holidays with his family spent in North Wales, playing in the sand dunes and on the beach in Harlech, so it had been agreed that it was the perfect place to scatter his ashes. "With this all happening I completely forgot. I... I can't come, I'm going to Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. Oh! Fuck, I'm sorry, I can always try and-"

"Are you going to visit Harry?" Will asked, letting go of my wrist so that he could hold my hand, instead.

"Yeah. He suggested I go there and be with him until this settles down a little, it all happened last minute." Looking around at all of the set models, I felt terrible and selfish. "Will, I'm so sorry. I feel fucking awful for forgetting. I can try to change my ticket, go on Monday or something."

"Lil, please don't worry about it." He squeezed my hand reassuringly. "It's only Mia and me going now, anyway, Jack had to go to Hong Kong for work. But Terry's sister and her kids are going to be there, too. He would understand that life gets in the way, and that the best place for you to be right now is with Harry, and so do I."

I bit my lip and fought back tears, guilt-ridden. I'd wanted to go and say a final farewell to someone who meant the absolute world to me, but as I thought about it, I felt relief creeping in. Mia was high on the lists my friends had formed as someone who had gone to the press, and although I wasn't entirely sure it was her, I didn't particularly want to spend any time with her, either. I also didn't think a trip to scatter her father's ashes was really the time or place to confront her about it.

"Do you think she did it? Mia?" I asked, remembering the conversation she and I had had at the funeral.

Will shrugged his shoulder, nonplussed, "Honestly, Lil, I don't know. But I'm going to find out."


	15. California Soul

_**a/n: Obviously we now know where Harry's house was in L.A., and what it looked like, but when I wrote these chapters originally, I didn't know and had to guess. Rather than being creepy I kept what I imagined the first time I wrote it, 'cause I love it.** _

**_\---_ **

I hated flying alone. I wasn't particularly fond of flying, full stop, but being alone seemed to make the nerves worse, especially on a twelve-hour flight. Having stayed awake most of the night, I tried to sleep as soon as I got on the plane, but - unlike the woman next to me who was fast asleep before they'd even closed the doors - I couldn't seem to switch my brain off. As the plane rattled along the runway to get ready for take off, I put my headphones in and listened to music - hoping that John Lennon's ' _Rock & Roll_' album would distract me from the horrid initial moment of being aware that there was nothing but air below the thin sheets of metal and fibreglass I was contained inside.

It had been a busy couple of days since the news of Harry and I became public knowledge, and I had hardly spoken to anyone. My work emails had begun to pile up, so I sent a reply to all apologising for any embarrassment the article may have caused them, and informing them that I would be away from the office. I then set my email to out-of-office, diverted it to Rose and Vicky - as was normal when I was on holiday - and turned my work mobile off, too. I was already getting better at not answering my phone unless it was someone I trusted, and after my visit to Will, I didn't leave Rose and Dee's other than a midnight visit to my house to pack for L.A.. I was acutely aware that I didn't know who I could trust, and that it could possibly have been any one of the people who were close to me, so I chose to keep myself cut off until after my trip and I hopefully came back with a clearer head.

The one call I did take - following a message asking if it was okay to call - was from Harry's mother, Anne.

When she called, I was surprised to learn that Harry had no idea she was calling me, and that it was Gemma who had given her my number, not him. I was nervous at first, despite the warmth in her voice as we exchanged pleasantries. We'd talked after Harry's show in London, and had agreed that we both wanted to move forward and start afresh, but with my past having been dragged out all over again, I couldn't help but worry it would hinder our progress.

Opening my mouth to apologise if any of it had caused her any embarrassment, Anne beat me to it.

"You've had quite the year, haven't you, sweetheart?" she said kindly. "I just wanted to make sure that you're doing okay."

Knees shaking, I sat down at Rose's kitchen table and bit back a sob. Anne's kindness was more than I could have ever hoped for. She had raised Harry, and I wanted for us to have a good relationship, so as I prepared for people's judgment it filled my heart with joy that she called just to check on how I was doing.

"Well, as the saying goes, it never rains but pours," I managed to chuckle, hiding that my voice was trembling. "Thank you so much for calling. I'm doing okay. I'm staying with my friends, Rose and Dee. They're letting me stay with them. There were paps outside my house, and my work."

Anne gave a short laugh, one that told me she knew what that was like. "They're a bloody nightmare, Layla, but it will settle, and they'll get bored. Especially if you're not staying there." There was a pause, one where she considered her next words: "But if you need to get away from London for a little while, you're more than welcome to come stay with me up here. It's a lot quieter."

Pulling the phone away from my ear as my face crumpled and tears sprang to my eyes, I hoped she didn't take my silence as rudeness. In one phone call, Anne had managed to show me more kindness than Will's mother ever had and it was overwhelming. It also highlighted just how much I missed my own mother, someone who I could turn to when I didn't know who I could trust.

"You honestly have no idea how much that means to me. Really." Voice cracking, I cleared my throat, "I'm actually flying out to go stay with Harry in the morning, but thank you so much for the offer."

This time it was Anne who was quiet, and self-doubt bubbled up in my stomach. Was she annoyed that I was running to Harry? Oh god! Was that what I was doing? Slipping into my old habits of relying on someone else to protect and save me? Should I just stay home and deal with this by myself? Was I abandoning all my friends and my colleagues, leaving them all to pick up the pieces of my mess while I swanned off to L.A.?!

"I reckon that's probably the best thing you could do." Anne broke my thoughts, popping the bubble of worry and making me remember that, as my partner, Harry was there to be relied on. When he needed me, I would be there for him, too. That, Layla, is how happy, healthy relationships work. "He's very good at handling these situations, and it'll be nice for you two to spend some time together now that everything's out in the open."

"That's what I am thinking, too. But, hopefully we can come visit you soon," I said, trying to sound happier, certainly now that I felt it from having spoken to her. "I've already told Harry that I want to hear all of the embarrassing stories about him growing up."

Anne started to laugh, "Oh, I have plenty of those to tell, don't worry!"

"I can't wait."

We said a cheerful goodbye, and she wished me a safe trip. Hanging up, I put my head in my hands and I cried. Other than getting a little tearful now and again, I hadn't properly cried since the news came out, but I sat there sobbing with warm, salty tears streaming down my face as my shoulders shook. Anne's call meant more to me than she could ever know. I'd had a complicated past with mothers; my mother Paula, my foster mother, Will's mother Verity, and even Joel's had been slow to warm at first. In fact, the only mothers I had a good relationship with were Rose and Dee's. Harry and Anne were close, and I knew it was important to him that we got along, but I had been worried that it wouldn't be possible. Her call gave me hope that maybe it was.

**-**

I must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I knew my shoulder was being gently touched, and as I blearily opened my eyes I was informed that we were going to be landing shortly. Stretching my arms up over my head, I watched out of the window as the city below grew nearer, and my butterflies kicked into gear. Harry and I hadn't seen each other in weeks, and even when he had been home it was a time filled with sadness, I hadn't really been able to give my full attention to him. I couldn't wait to make up for lost time.

Dee had also pointed out that it would be the longest amount of time I'd ever spent with Harry. Two whole weeks of just him and I, and I couldn't exactly just jump in the car and drive home if we had a bit of a falling out. Not that I was expecting us to fall out, but it was the beauty of us both having a home in the same city; either one of us could retreat if we needed time alone or if things took a bad turn. I saw it as yet another test for us, and a chance for us to prove to ourselves that we'd done the right thing by getting back together. It was scary, but it was also exciting, for both of us. The last conversation I'd had with Harry, he sounded like a kid on Christmas morning, talking about me meeting his friends and places he wanted to take me. We were going to essentially be playing house for a fortnight and getting a glimpse at what it would be like if we chose to live together one day.

Waiting for my luggage to appear on the carousel, I was hit by just how tired I was. My body was telling me it was the early hours of the morning, but my phone was telling me something entirely different and that it was actually half past seven in the evening. Thankfully, Harry had organised a car to collect me from the airport so that I wouldn't have to worry about trying to find a taxi with a brain that was barely functioning.

He had wanted to come and pick me up himself, but as I was apprehensive about us being seen together - and I certainly didn't want it to be when I'd just gotten off of a long-haul flight - so we agreed to compromise. (Catching a glimpse of my reflection in an enormous glass frame advertising for British Airways, I was even more glad that I'd insisted he didn't need to come get me and that Harry himself wouldn't be witnessing me fresh off the plane. I at least had a car ride to make myself look less like I was freshly dug-up.)

My driver - who introduced himself as Robert - was waiting in arrivals with my name on a card and a warm smile. He said hello, took my case, and signalled for me to follow him.

"How was your flight, ma'am?" He asked, leading me to the exit.

"It was long and boring, but that's how I like my flights to be," I replied, and he chuckled and nodded in agreement as we stepped out into the warm Los Angeles evening.

It was warm in London - a heatwave in fact - but this heat was different. London is humid in summer, it leaves you sticky and can sometimes feel like there's a coat of dirt on your aura, but there was no humidity in the air in L.A., it was dry and I almost felt like I was suffocating. I stopped briefly to gaze up at the remaining blue sky of the day, there were telltale pinks and oranges off in the distance that signalled it would be getting dark soon, and for a split-second I forgot that I had any worries at all.

Suddenly, Robert doubled back to be by my side, guiding me to his blacked-out car just as I realised I was being photographed. I was half-asleep and jet-lagged, so it took me longer than it should have to react. I must have looked like an idiot as my body caught up with my brain, mouth agape, and an expression of pure bewilderment. In all of the excitement of seeing Harry and the nervousness about flying so far, I had clean forgotten that America had paparazzi, too.

With Robert's hand on my back, I rushed in the direction I was being quietly told to go in as cameras started to move in closer to me. Once we were close enough, he opened the door and I jumped inside - my hand gripping so tightly onto the leather handle of my hand-luggage that my knuckles were turning white. Although it was far too late, I kept my head down as I waited for him to put my case in the boot of the car, and I wished I'd taken the few extra minutes to go to the bathroom and make myself look somewhat decent before I left the airport. I also wondered if maybe someone had made it known that I was going to be on that flight. Paranoia and I were quickly becoming firm friends.

"Are you alright?" Robert asked as he jumped into the driver's seat. He locked the door, put on his seatbelt, and we drove away. The whole thing happened in less than two minutes, but it had seemed like it was taking place in slow motion.

"Thank you so much for getting me to the car so quickly!" I laughed nervously, my heart-rate gradually slowing back down to normal. "I haven't gotten used to the fact that might sometimes happen."

"You weren't expecting them?" He looked at me in his rear-view mirror, trying to figure out if he knew who I was. I debated if I should tell him I was a famous British actress or something if he asked, because that certainly sounded better than 'they're photographing me because I have a famous boyfriend and had a terrible childhood. Oh, and I had an affair.' "They knew who you were, but you sure looked surprised."

Digging out a small canvas bag I'd put in my carry-on, I pulled out my compact and mascara and started to apply the make-up that I probably should have applied half an hour earlier. "I was not, but I'm sure they got some lovely shots of me gawping at them. There should be a law against ladies being photographed after a twelve-hour flight!"

Robert chuckled, then said seriously, "I don't think they should be allowed there at all, if you ask me. You're not the first person I've had to help make a quick getaway."

It was comforting to know I wasn't alone in having been caught off guard by a bunch of photographers. Or at least it _was_ comforting, until I realised that those other people were probably beautiful actors or actresses and models who were tall and leggy and only needed to wear clear mascara and tinted moisturiser.

However, there was nothing I could do about it anymore. I'm sure the people who'd I'd briefly glimpsed hating me when I'd foolishly gone searching to see what was being said about me were all going to get a whole lot of joy from those photographs, but I didn't care. It was hard to care when I was on my way to see Harry, when it was only going to be him and I, alone. I was sure even _he_ had at least a couple of off-days where he wasn't one-hundred percent devastatingly handsome. Right?

Swapping my comfortable, oversized black cardigan for a slightly fresher blue zip-up hoodie, I spritzed myself with some perfume, and tidied my things away. I felt slightly less gross than when I'd gotten in the car, but the first thing I was going to do when I got to Harry's was take a long, hot shower.

There was some traffic, so I sat back and took in the passing scenery. I'd never been to California before. In fact, I hadn't even been to America before. I'd once planned on going to New York with Will, not long after we were married. We were going to go close to Christmas and do some gift shopping, but the day before we were going to fly out, he went out drinking with his friends from university and broke his ankle falling off some steps. He apologised for the trip being cancelled, but quickly got upset with me because I was making him feel guilty, and there was never any talk of us going again. With the wonderful benefit of hindsight, I a) wondered how I stayed married to him for so long when he was such a collosol arsehole, and b) should have known from then on what the rest of our marriage was going to be like.

It was memories like those which - despite his insistence that it was not him - made me question Will. He had changed, he was no longer that mean or selfish or spiteful, but it would be easier for him to go back to being that way than it would be for him to continue bettering himself. What if Terry had been the real reason Will had worked hard at being a good person? Terry had made no secret of the fact he'd been close to ending his relationship with him after his part in Harry and I breaking up, and how ill I became because of it. Maybe now that Terry was gone, it was harder for him to put up a pretence that he gave a shit about me.

Shaking my head, I mentally told myself I was wrong. Will and I had gone through too much for him to just throw it away, even at his lowest. There were plenty of other people at that funeral, and I just couldn't allow myself to believe that he would do that to me. The thought alone was unbearable.

Robert and I began to chat, making the journey pass quicker for both of us. He was married with three children, he'd met his wife in high school, and he'd been working in various fields as a driver for almost thirty years.

He was just in the middle of telling me about his eldest daughter going to college when he suddenly said, "Ah! It should be the next place on the left."

As we drove through the metal gates and up the driveway to Harry's Bel-Air home, I felt like I was in that scene in the movie Jurassic Park, when they all slowly moved to stare out the windows because 'holy shit! That's a dinosaur!' My jaw nearly hit the black-carpeted floor as I all but pressed my nose up against the tinted glass. If I'd have had sunglasses on, I would have taken them off in wonderment like I was Sam bloody Neill watching a diplodocus. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. I'm sure there were grander, more ostentatious homes on that street alone, but it took my breath away.

Harry's house in London was impressive and perfectly Harry, but this house was doubly impressive, and was definitely the home of someone rich and famous. It was spacious, with a modern exterior and lots of warm climate plants. There were a lot of windows which as the sun began to set they reflected a golden, orange glow that was warm and inviting, and there were rooms on overhanging platforms that seemed to defy gravity. Harry - it seemed - had bought a Bond villain's house.

It was absolutely beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the man who stood waiting at the bottom of the steps, with a wide toothy grin on his face as he waved to me.

I'd never seen anything more beautiful than him.


	16. West Coast

Robert hadn't even fully stopped the car before Harry was at the door. Pulling it open eagerly, he practically dragged me out so that he could engulf me in his arms and bury his face in my neck.

"Christ, I've missed you," he muttered, holding onto me tightly.

The sound of the boot being closed reminded Harry that we weren't alone, and he reluctantly pulled away to grab my case while I got my hold-all from the back seat. Shaking Robert's hand, Harry warmly thanked him.

"He saved my bacon, that's for sure," I grinned, extending my own hand in thanks. Harry looked at me quizzically, but not wanting to cause him any worry, I waved my hand to dismiss the issue. "Don't worry about it, I'll tell you later."

With a final wave, Robert got in the car and drove off, leaving Harry and I alone. We were quiet for a moment, standing face to face as Harry took my hand in his and held onto it tightly. This was it, our relationship was public, and we were about to spend two whole weeks together with no worry about having to be discreet.

Sighing happily, he said, "Come on, let's get you in and unpacked. Are you hungry?"

"No, not yet. I just need a shower and a nap."

Harry picked up my suitcase, slid his free arm around my shoulder, and I placed mine around his lower back. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of my nose before leading me into the house.

Inside, everything was equally stunning as the outside. There was a warm glow coming in from the windows as the sun almost set. The architecture was slightly mid-century, and it was mostly open-plan, but the style was as comfortable as his house in London. It didn't quite feel like the him I knew and was used to, but I looked forward to getting to know all of the different Harrys.

Standing at the front door, Harry gave a quick tour - pointing to the left that the kitchen was in that direction, as was the gym and stairs down to the garage. However, what made me gasp, was that even from where I stood I could see through the house, out to the patio, past the pool and all across the Los Angeles city skyline. I slipped away from him, and headed to the open door. I loved London, it was my home, and it was always going to be, but I couldn't deny how beautiful the view was.

It wasn't long before I felt Harry against my back, hands on the curve of my waist, and his chin resting on my shoulder.

"This place is stunning, Harry, truly." I breathed, having a moment of disbelief that I was in this place with him.

"It's not too bad is it?" Turning me around to face him, a soft, lopsided smile appeared on his sweet, kissable lips. "Oh no, yes, this view is definitely much better."

"You think you're so bloody cute." Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and reached up on my tiptoes to kiss him, my arms circling his neck as his palm held me against his body.

We hadn't really been able to enjoy each other when he'd come home for Terry's funeral - I'd been too distracted or tired, or he'd been too annoyed because of Will trying to kiss me - so it was nice to be close and not have my mind racing at high speed. I had hit a wall of tiredness in the airport, but as he welcomed my kiss eagerly and I felt his hand wandering under my shirt, pulling the hem of my vest up to stroke his thumb along my spine, I felt desire begin to stir.

Harry pulled away first, humming as he smiled lazily, "I was going to suggest you go unpack while I cook dinner, but I'd actually much rather eat something else. But..." he kissed me again, soft and slow. Hands gliding down over my ass and squeezing it with a strong grip, he pulled my lower half against him so I could feel his growing excitement in his jeans, "...you've had a long flight, so I'll just have to wait until later."

"I'm so tired, baby." Groaning, I dropped my head onto his chest and inhaled the smell of cologne thick on his t-shirt. His scent was so comforting to me that I could instantly feel myself getting sleepy, and the need to have him ravish me and take me where we stood was quickly being replaced with wanting to sleep curled against him.

"Hey," Harry muttered, lifting my head up gently, "wake up, sleepyhead."

I smiled up at him sleepily, lids falling half closed as I pouted, "I love you."

He kissed me again, inhaling deeply and pulling me in even closer than before. Separating himself away from me so we could go upstairs, the smile he gave was wide. "I am never going to get tired of hearing you say those words."

**-**

Harry and I headed upstairs to his bedroom. There were more walls of glass, giving an even more expansive view of the hills around us and the city below. Before I could get too distracted, he led me into his generous walk-in closet, opened two of the doors, and pointed at the sizable, empty space, proudly.

"For your things," he grinned.

"For me?" Putting a hand to my face in faux concern, I shook my head. "I don't know, Harry, you don't think we're rushing things a little?"

"I did think that," Harry folded his arms across his chest and put a finger to his mouth, hiding his smirk as he shrugged, "but I didn't want your suitcase messing up the place for two weeks."

I frowned and pushed him playfully, his cackle filling the room while I laid my case down flat. The gesture was sweet, especially considering we hadn't even reached the stage of leaving a toothbrush back home yet. I was grateful that he wanted me to feel comfortable and at home.

Crouching down in front of my opened suitcase, I stared at all the clothes I'd packed and groaned loudly, before sitting on the floor with a soft thud. I was too tired, it was all too much.

"I do not know how you do this so often. I am knackered." Rubbing my eyes to try to ease the stinging in my eyelids, I swore under my breath when I realised I'd just ruined my make-up. "Maybe I'll skip the packing until tomorrow and just take a shower. It might perk me up a little. If that's okay?"

"Babe, this is your home while you're here, of course it's okay." I felt Harry crouching behind me, his tattooed arms wrapping around my shoulders. "In fact, if you're up to it, I could join you."

Lips brushing against my ear as a hand wandering down my chest, under my vest, and into my bra, his fingertips barely grazed my nipple before it hardened. I arched my back needing him more, his gentle teasing compelling me to utter his name in a sigh. Turning my head to look at him, his mouth quickly met mine so we could continue the kiss we'd started downstairs.

"I'll take that as a yes?" he chuckled quietly, his whole hand cupping my breast and squeezing it gently. Mind lost to a confusion of lust and tiredness, I slowly nodded - whining through my teeth when he removed his hold and stood up. "Come on then, James, let's see if we can wake you up a little."

**-**

Six long weeks of no physical contact with Harry finally came to an end up against the black marble tiles of his shower. He began kissing my neck as soon as the water was running at the perfect temperature and the cubicle door was closed behind us. Pressing his wet, naked body against my back, he slid one arm around my waist while his free hand went straight to between my slightly parted thighs. The moment his fingers stroked over my sensitive clit, my hand reached out for the wall to hold myself steady, causing Harry to chuckle sinfully in my ear.

"Good?" He asked, repeating the action a few more times in quick succession.

Melting against his chest, I sighed, "so good. So fucking good."

He turned me around so he could kiss me, and we moved so my back was pressed against the wall. I gasped loudly when my hot skin hit the cool tiles, and I almost joked that that alone was almost enough to wake me, but Harry's fingers and the flat of his tongue smoothing over mine were distracting my every thought. I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked his length slowly - tiny jolts of arousal shooting down to where his touch was every time he let out a moan.

For a moment we were content to just kiss and touch each other. It had been months since we'd been able to fully lose ourselves in each other, and knowing we had an abundance of time to do so excited me further.

"D-Don't stop," I whispered, feeling the sweet point of no return rushing towards me. All I could focus on was Harry's fingers and trying to stay standing up. I was so close. So... Close... "Baby, I'm gonna- Hey!"

His hand pulled away and my eyes flew open in disbelief, unable to do anything but whine as the orgasm I'd almost been close enough to touch slowly faded. Quickly, Harry kissed me to silence my complaints, grabbing my wrists and lifting them so that I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Hold on tight," he mumbled. I did as I was told, and as he raised one of my legs up to his waist, he added, "I've missed feeling you, and I know you're tired so I want to have you coming around my cock at least once tonight."

"Keep talking like that and I'm sure I could find some energy to do it more than once."

Holding onto him for dear life, with my legs around his waist and my body pinned against the wall, I prayed Harry didn't slip, and that I didn't hurt him. He still had two shows left before the end of the tour and I didn't want a sex injury to hinder that. However, Harry showed no signs of straining as he pushed into me, his eyes falling half closed as my warm, wet walls enveloped him. He let out a low, satisfied hum, and smiled a lazy smile that was so unbelievably sexy I let out an involuntary whimper.

Nose to nose and closer than close, we remained still for a few seconds, soaking up how good it felt to be physically connected again.

"I love you," I whispered, dragging my lips over his and inhaling him in.

"I love you, too," Harry mumbled, his hips slowly starting to move as he tested to see if we were secure and there was no risk of injury. Brow crinkled with concentration, he joked, "I'm apologising now in case we break our necks."

Realising we were stable, he kissed me and built his thrusts into a rhythm that caused every inch of my body to tingle. This was what I needed after a hellish week of stress, uncertainty, and nowhere near enough sleep. All of the worry about who I could and couldn't trust, the press and paparazzi, work, and everything else that had been keeping me up at night, it all faded away as I lost myself in him, in _my_ Harry. We focused on each other completely, exchanging whispered words of love and desire between furtive kisses and moans.

Having already been so close to the edge before he had pulled his hand away, it didn't take too long to get back to it again.

"Please, please... don't... stop!"

Whimpering as Harry's thrusts became quicker and deeper, I stayed maddeningly close to release. It took him moaning against my cheek that he was about to come to send me over the final hurdle. We came together; lips parted in a half-kiss, connected, but barely hanging on. His thrusts became sloppy and erratic, my toes curled, and my fingernails dug into my own skin as I clung on and my mind went blank.

With heavy breaths as we both recovered, Harry carefully lowered me back down so I could stand on wobbly legs. Returning to stand properly under the warm water, we remained close. He lightly stroked his fingertips up and down my back, which felt raw from the friction of the edges of the tiles, and pressed his lips against my shoulder.

"I needed that," I chuckled, arms circling his waist so my hands could rest on his pert behind.

Reaching out for a bottle of shower gel, which sat on a built-in shelf, he grinned, "Hopefully that'll keep you perked up for dinner at least."

**-**

We ate dinner outside, sitting at the large outdoor dining table with the view of the twinkling city lights below us. I wasn't really hungry, but as I'd been too anxious to really eat anything on the plane, and Harry had gone to the trouble of cooking for me, I knew I had to at least try and eat a little.

As we ate, I broached the subject of the article and our relationship going public for the first time since I'd arrived. Harry hadn't mentioned it at all, and I wasn't going to until the following day - when I felt less exhausted - but I couldn't sit and break bread and enjoy my evening without even mentioning the elephant in the room. I hadn't come to see him in L.A. simply for a holiday, after all.

"I'm sorry about the article. I... I really don't know what to say but sorry. I am absolutely mortified that someone would do that to us, to you. Apparently I expected way too much from the people around me." Harry was silent, chewing thoughtfully before reaching for his glass of water. He took a long sip but made no effort to speak, placing a seed of doubt and worry that maybe he was angry about the whole thing, but had waited for me to fly almost halfway round the world to tell me. "I spoke to Will, and he doesn't know who it is, but he's going to do everything he can to find out."

The mention of Will's name made him scoff, and although he tried to remain quiet, he finally cleared his throat and asked, "and did you ask him if he did it?"

"I did, and he denied it."

"And you believe him?"

"I do, yes. Well, I want to take his word for it."

Harry scoffed again as he shook his head with a cynical smile. He and I hadn't really talked about who we thought could have taken those pictures, but it was clear now that he suspected Will and that was why he hadn't wanted to bring it up; he figured that I would defend him.

"So," he said curiously, "who do you think it was?"

I leant back in my chair and looked out over the city, the glow over it was now light pollution, but it still looked incredible. Harry was watching me intently, elbows on the table and fingers steepled against his cheek. The seed of thought that he was angry began to grow, and alongside it grew a healthy sapling of guilt. It was the sordid details of my life being spread salaciously, but it was Harry who'd have to publicly deal with the consequences. It was what I had been afraid of when I asked him about it in Milan; the hard work he'd put into cultivating a serious music career was ruined by being back in the headlines as tabloid fodder.

It really was beginning to feel like I had flown twelve hours only to find out that Harry was annoyed with me. Maybe it was lucky I hadn't bothered unpacking, yet.

"Harry, I didn't fly all this way for you to make me feel like shit."

Shoulders dropping as he let his defences down, Harry sighed, "I'm sorry, Lil, I promise I'm not trying to make you feel like shit. I guess... Well, I kind of already knew you'd defend Will. I know he's in your life, and I'm fine with it, but... but seeing him kiss you after the funeral, it was a lot."

Internally, I kicked myself for not having made the connection that Harry was still annoyed about the kiss. Or if he hadn't still been annoyed, someone spilling the details of our affair had reawoken that annoyance. I imagined in Harry's head he was thinking that Will was still in love with me and was hoping all this drama would cause Harry and I to break up, clearing the way for us to get back together.

"I know it was, and I'm not defending him, not really. I asked him, and he said he didn't do it or know who did, and at the moment I can't do any more than just take his word for it. I know he has form, but he's my friend, and I promise that is all he is, and I have to trust him up to a point. Do you know what I mean?" Harry remained silent but nodded reluctantly. "I suspect everyone who was there. Even Rose, even Dee, even Jeff, even you _._ "

His eyes widened as he looked at me incredulously. "Me?!"

"Yes, you. And even me. You're quick to conclude it was Will because of his past dickhead behaviour, but really it could have been anyone." Shrugging my shoulders, I added, "Everyone there who was close enough to know about my past all had their own motives."

"Do you really think I would do that to you?" His expression was sad, and he looked hurt.

"No, baby, I don't. And I don't believe Rose or Dee would, either. But I sat and listened to them coming up with a list of people-"

"Who do they think it was?"

"They didn't want to say Will either but I knew they were thinking it, but they suggested Mia, Joel, and Jeff." I caught Harry rolling his eyes at the mention of Jeff's name, but not wanting to cause an argument by pointing out that Jeff hadn't exactly been a big fan of me to begin with, I continued on, "Dee even mentioned Vicky because she's an old friend of Mia's, but she had no idea about my past. She didn't know about the affair, either."

We sat in silence - dinner forgotten, our food having turned as cold as the mood. I regretted not waiting until the following day to talk about it all, and my worries about not being able to leave if we fell out were coming into fruition.

"Are you going to be angry if I suggest another name?" Harry asked quietly, avoiding my eye and focusing on swirling around the last remaining drops of water at the bottom of his glass.

"Bianca?"

Our eyes met and he nodded. "I know you don't even want to consider that it could possibly be her, but if you really think it could have been any one of us, you might have to consider it."

"I have. Why do you think I didn't answer outright when you asked me who I think did it?" The words were defensive, but my demeanour was not. I'd finally said what I'd been afraid to tell anyone; my number one suspect was my very own sister.

We'd had such a wonderful day together before the funeral, and I had felt comfortable enough to open up to her. I'd told her everything - everything that had been in that fucking article, I had told her. And as for coming to the funeral, she hadn't offered to do so until after she met Harry, and with the benefit of hindsight I could only see it as a ploy for her to try and get a picture of him and I together when our guard was down. I even remembered that when Harry and I had come back downstairs after being in the bedroom I'd shared with Will, that Bianca had been at the bottom of the stairs, but had said she was texting her boyfriend while waiting to use the bathroom. I had trusted her too soon, and for that I blamed myself. I didn't want to point fingers because if it was her, I was the only one to blame for all of that information getting out.

Harry got up from his chair and came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. The frostiness between us dissipated, and I laid my head back against his shoulder.

"We'll find out who it was, okay?" he asked, waiting for me to mumble in agreement before speaking again."But it doesn't matter anyway, not to me. All that matters is that you're here, and that you still want this."

I looked at him with a frown. The thought of not wanting to be with him because of everything having suddenly blown up hadn't even entered my thoughts. I was scared, I was worried about what people were saying about me, and I hated that I no longer really knew who I could trust, but the one thing I was absolutely certain about was that I wanted to be with him.

"Of course I do," I replied, placing both my hands on his where they lay at the centre of my chest, just above my heart. "I love you, Harry, and I'm not going anywhere."


	17. I'd Have You Any Time

Despite managing to stay up until just after midnight, the jet lag woke me up obscenely early for someone on holiday. Through the tiny gaps between the curtains of the floor to ceiling windows, I could see the sun was just starting to rise, but when I checked my phone I wasn't at all surprised to discover that if I was in London, I'd be back from lunch and on that final stretch towards home time. With a heavy sigh, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, praying that I could just feel tired enough to go back to sleep for a little longer. I felt exhausted and befuddled, but my body clock was absolutely convinced that it was time to be awake.

**Layla**

_Hi, forgot to message yesterday, but I got here fine. Everything OK? How's Stan?_

Hittingsend on my message to Rose, I was about to send a message to Will when I heard a quiet but heavy breath next to me. I put my phone back down on the bedside table, and glanced over to the beautiful man asleep beside me.

Harry was also flat on his back, with one arm up over his head, and the other down by his side with a hand resting on his tummy as it slowly rose and fell. He was completely naked, and the bed covers were pushed down just past his waist, giving me a glimpse of the neatly trimmed, dark wisps of hair peeking out from under the white, cotton sheet. Stretched out, he looked comfortable and peaceful, like he didn't have a care in the world.

It felt nice to watch him without him being super alert and noticing, I could admire the details of his face without him catching me and teasing me. Turning over onto my side so that I could get a better look, I could feel the warmth emanating from his body as I moved closer, drawing me in even more. As I kissed his chest and my body curved against his side, I smiled at the quiet wheezes he made as he slept, finding it so adorable that my heart felt like it could burst. One kiss wasn't enough, I needed more of him. His whole torso lay exposed to me and my desire to be fully enveloped in his warmth rocketed, I was no longer exhausted, I was wide awake and in need of Harry.

Kissing up to the curve of his neck and down to his collarbone, the feel of his skin on my lips was intoxicating. I breathed him in deeply, savouring his natural scent mixed with the fading smell of cologne and sleep.

"What are you doing?" Harry mumbled, sleepily.

"Kissing you." I replied. "Is that okay? Or do you want me to stop?"

Waiting for him to tell me to stop so he could go back to sleep, I playfully grazed his nipple with my teeth, causing him to let out a soft, guttural moan.

"Just... Just do it quietly." Looking up at him, his eyes were still closed, but he was smirking - left eyebrow twitching up suggestively. The hand that had been laying on his stomach suddenly slid down between the laurel tattoos, disappearing under the covers to pull out his growing erection. "Although, I think you've started something."

Stroking himself with bare, ringless hands, Harry hummed quietly. The sound was low and gruff in his throat, stirring my need to touch him even further. I watched the way he touched his own cock, then returned my attention to kissing his chest, running my tongue over where his butterfly tattoo lay and trailing back up to kiss along his jaw. Bringing down the arm he'd had up above his head, Harry's hand went to the back of my neck and up into my hair, fingers tangling in a grip that held my face close to his so that he could graze my ear with his teeth.

Hips rolling softly, the muscles in his arm tensed and relaxed with every movement, as his stomach tightened so that the ink on his skin rippled. Harry looked like the stuff porn was made of, and I was mesmerised and aroused, feeling a deep ache that only grew when I kissed him.

As we shared a lazy, open-mouthed kiss, I reached down, pulled his hand out of the way, and took hold of his cock.

"Fuck, Lil!" Harry sighed blissfully.

I continued to move my grip up and down his length, taking his lead of how he wanted me to touch him from the moans in my ear.

Pausing as I ran my thumb over his swollen, pink head when the first dribble of precum appeared, I asked, "Does it feel good, baby?"

Harry's lips moved closer to my ear, and a shiver of delight ran through me as he nipped at the lobe, then replied, "Get on top of me, Miss James."

With a bit back whimper, I lifted myself off the bed to climb over him and straddle his thighs. Harry, wide awake now despite his sleepy eyes, grinned up at me and glided his hands up my thighs to hold my waist.

"No pressure, baby, but I'm going to need his sort of wake up call every morning you're here," he said with a smirk, before biting his pillowy bottom lip and watching as I licked my palm and stroked him a few more times.

"Don't push your luck."

We both held our breath in anticipation as I guided him into me, and as I lowered myself down, I watched as Harry's face changed from happy to blissful, his mouth falling open and his brow creasing. Sitting on him fully, I held onto his hips and took a second to enjoy the satisfying stretch, before leaning forward and giving him a kiss. The kiss that was returned was greedy and open-mouthed. He enveloped me in his arms, wrapping them around my waist to hold me close while thrusting slowly up into me so deep that I could only whimper.

Hips rolling to match his rhythm, we moved together slowly while keeping our eyes locked. His chest grew hot under mine, and I revelled in the warmth I'd woken up craving, realising I had _actually_ been craving it since we'd been apart. His warmth represented how safe he made me feel, of how secure I felt lowering my defences around him. I had done a lot of the work myself, but the clichéd truth was that Harry had thawed a lot of the ice I'd once kept around me. The first night we met, I had been rude and unfriendly, but now I shuddered at the idea of being that way with anybody. Harry had softened me in the best way.

I also enjoyed the new connection we seemed to have since starting afresh. I'd noticed it in Milan and at home, but it was stronger since arriving in Los Angeles, since our relationship was no longer a secret. There was nothing to hide anymore, nothing either one of us was worried would come out and spoil everything - certainly not on my side, anyway. We were free of the shackles that had held us back before, we had a fortnight of being in one place together. We'd get up, have breakfast together, he'd go work out, we'd go to sound check and to the second to last show of his tour, and then, tonight, we'd come home, together.

I'd never been so excited to do semi-mundane, routine tasks with someone, but nothing really felt mundane or routine with Harry.

"Hey, you're miles away," he breathed, brushing his finger across my cheek and slowing his hips to an almost still, "Do you want to stop?"

"No." Looking him over, and taking in all of the details of the face I wanted to look at for the rest of my life, I said, "I just... I love you so much."

In one swift, careful move, Harry rolled us over so he was on top of me. Gazing deep into my eyes, his face was serious as he stroked his thumb over my jaw. I saw a look of wonderment and love that had once scared me so much, but now felt so right and familiar. The hand on my face travelled down my neck, brushing over my nipple until it hardened, then went to my hip as he started to move in me again.

Kicking the covers off us, I gripped his lower back and opened my legs wider to let his deep, slow thrusts take me over. His mouth went to my neck; expelling hot breaths which made me tingle, feeling every whimper as he scorched the words "I love you" against my skin.

Suddenly planting both hands on either side of me, Harry held himself up and started to pick up speed. With each push in, his cock brought me to the edge, holding my breath as I prepared for the kind of release only he could give me. Head tilted back, hands on his sides, I cried out and basked in my moment of pure pleasure as it hit me in wave after delicious wave. I grabbed at Harry's ass to pull him deeper, feeling him clench as his own orgasm took him over.

Collapsing on me, Harry rested his head on my breast and breathed heavily. I flopilly placed a hand on his back, gliding my fingernails up and down over his skin, causing him to shudder and goose-pimples to appear on his arms.

"I promise I won't get soppy every time we have sex," I said quietly after a few moments of satisfied silence and catching our breath.

"Layla," Harry began, peppering my breasts with feather-light kisses, "I have spent five years waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to be open with me, I'm never gonna be annoyed or unhappy to hear you be soppy."

Biting back a grin, I ran my fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, "I'm also sorry for waking you up so early. Feel free to go back to sleep where you are."

"Mmm, tempting." With a groan, he stretched his arm out for his phone and checked the time before dropping it back down with a slight thud. "I need to get up soon anyway, so I'll forgive you this time."

"Thanks."

Harry grunted as he lifted himself up off me and got on all fours. Face to face, he mumbled, "Good morning," then pressed a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. "Shall we get up and have breakfast?"

"Good morning, and that sounds perfect."

He climbed off the bed, and started to head in the direction of the bathroom, but suddenly stopped and let his eye wander over me. I felt bashful under his gaze; my cheeks reddening, and wondering if maybe my hair was sticking up at all angles, or if he was only just noticing what I looked like with zero make-up on. But, he just smiled and gave me a look that made my fatigued body flutter back to life.

Getting back on the bed, he spread my legs to settle back between them, and said with a grin, "Actually, breakfast can wait a little longer."

**-**

Harry offered that I could come work-out with him, but, believing we weren't quite at the stage in our relationship where I wanted him to witness how sweaty and gross I got when I exercised, I politely declined, choosing instead to go sit by the pool and call Rose. She hadn't really replied to my earlier text, but merely sent me a delightful photo of me leaving the airport the previous evening. It seemed she'd gotten over her overprotectiveness pretty quickly. Still, while I now knew she was aware that I'd landed safely, I also wanted to make sure nothing at work had gone to hell, either.

Opening the huge sliding doors to head outside, I was once again awestruck by the beautiful view of the city in the near distance. I hadn't even been in L.A. for twenty-four hours, but already it seemed like forever since I'd left London. Nothing compared to the city I called my home, but it sure was wonderful to get the opportunity to explore somewhere new and equally exciting. And being somewhere warm and sunny certainly lifted my spirits, too.

Sitting on the edge of the pool, I slid my feet into the cool, clear water and sighed happily. I was still weirded out about being photographed, and I dreaded that Rose would tell me something horrible, but at the same time it was hard to care or worry when I felt like the luckiest woman alive, something I'd never _ever_ expected to experience in my life.

Rose answered on the third ring, in a Liverpudlian accent that was probably better than my own, "Alright, Bird!"

I countered with my best East London accent, "Alright, geezah! You good to chat?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course! Give me a sec to turn the oven down." I heard her footsteps, then there was a clatter of saucepan lids and the oven door opening and closing. Seconds later she sighed and asked in a cheerful tone, "Sorry, I'm doing dinner. How are you? Seen anyone famous yet?"

"Ha Ha. I'm fine, I'll be better when this jet lag stops kicking my arse. How're things there? Everything okay?"

"Layla, you've been gone a day, everything's fine," she chuckled. "And, it's really hard to be sympathetic about jet lag when you're in Sunny California and I just had to traipse around Tesco and drive home with one wet foot squelching in my flip-flop because I didn't realise I'd parked in a puddle after it rained this afternoon."

Laughing out loud, I would have felt guilty for doing so had she not sent the pap photo of me at the airport. I guess she had a valid point that if I was going to have my body clock throw a tantrum, it might as well be somewhere glamorous an sun-soaked.

"Thanks for that picture by the way, mat _e_ ,'really appreciate it. Were they that bad? I didn't realise that the paparazzi practically live at LAX or I'd have put on a fake moustache, or at least some make-up."

"You looked like every other normal person after a twelve-hour flight, Lil, don't even worry about it. I just loved that picture because you look so startled." I noted that she cleverly avoided giving me the truthful answer of, 'yes, you looked like absolute shit'. "So, how's Harry? Send him my love."

"I will do." I sounded far less pleased than I actually was. Rose sending her love to Harry, was akin to pigs flying or snowballs in hell. I wanted to dance around and sing about how she loved him and that they were best friends, but not wanting to jinx anything, I carried on as normal. "Rose, it's... incredible. I'm never coming home. I'm sitting in the sunshine with my legs in the pool, I have a breathtaking view across Los Angeles, and I had the most delicious sex with my amazing boyfriend before we got up and made breakfast together. I believe this is what they call 'The Dream'."

Rose made a strangled noise and muttered, "You are a fucking bitch." Giggling, she added, "You can keep the boyfriend part, though. I only have eyes for one lady. Oh! We're definitely on for Ibiza for our hen night, Dee finally agreed that we can just do a second one at home for mums."

"Oh about bloody time! Okay, I'll speak to Will about Terry's villa when I get back, I'm sure we can all fit into that."

Thinking about Will made me sad. The expression on his face as I'd asked him he'd been the one who had taken that photo and gone to the press was seared in my brain forever. He'd understood, and I knew he wouldn't ever hold it against me, but he'd known he was the first person I was asking - that even after all we'd gone through to repair our relationship, I still believed he was capable of hurting me in such a way.

"Done it already," Rose said, interrupting my sadness. "I dropped in to see him after taking you to the airport and he said it's not a problem. 'Beefa, babes! I can taste the cheap vodka already!"

"Yesss! I can't wait! If the villa's sorted, then I can focus on all of the other wonderful things I have planned for my two favourite ladies." Laughing while Rose groaned, I then asked, "Was Will alright? Is he upset with me?"

"He's fine, but I think he's having a particularly rough week," she sighed heavily. "But he's not at all upset with you. If anything, he's upset with _himself_ because you had every right to ask him, after everything he put you through. He's also furious that not only did someone he trusted do that to you, but that they did it at Terry's wake. Terry would..."

Her sentence trailed off, still finding it strange to talk about him in the past-tense. We were all struggling with it. We'd love to talk about him, especially when we were with Will, because in the first few days after losing him, he'd said it helped him, but it always resulted in one or more of us crying. I knew what Rose had been about to say, so I didn't press for her to finish.

"I know, he'd probably have phoned every single person who'd been there and interrogated them with an angle-poise lamp by now," I chuckled. "But, it's fine. As long as Will isn't upset with me, and I know, or at least hope, it wasn't him."

"I don't think so either. The way he is at the moment, if it had been, he would probably have 'fessed up by now."

Humming in agreement, I heard Dee in the background announcing she was home from work. There was a hushed conversation as the couple exchanged hellos and Rose explained who she was on the phone to.

Laughing that she could have worked out who it was for herself, Dee said, "Hi, Lil! We miss you! Come home soon."

"Miss you, too, love! I'll be home before you know it, don't worry. We have a hen party to plan."

The three of us spoke for a little longer until Rose complained she was hungry and needed to go before she wasted away. With one final reassurance that everything was fine, and that Stan was making himself right at home in their bed, I told Rose to watch out for trench foot and we said goodbye.

I missed them already, and I wished that there was a way they could have come with me instead of being adults with jobs and a business to run. My life was infinitely better for them being in it, and for them having my back at all times. I was going to make sure that they both had the most perfect hen party and wedding ever.

Hanging up, I set my phone down and looked around, unsure what to do next. It had been a long time since I'd spent my days being a lady of leisure, and it was strange to not be running around with a to-do-list a mile long. I was contemplating calling Will when I heard a wolf-whistle and footsteps behind me. Twisting around, Harry was walking toward me, topless and glistening with sweat with his black t-shirt tossed over his shoulder.

"Y'know if you fancied putting on that little red bikini I spotted in your case yesterday, you'd be more than welcome to take a dip," he grinned suggestively, before taking a drink of ice-cold water from the bottle in his hand. "Everything okay back home?"

With a smile from ear to ear, I told him, "Everything's fine."


	18. Sun Queen

A headache that I couldn't seem to shake off kept me from attending Harry's penultimate show. After a nap that didn't help, I got dressed with my eyes half closed as the pain in my head throbbed - hating the idea of not being well enough to go, but not entirely sure on how I was going to manage if I did. When Harry strolled into the bathroom and found me perched on the edge of the bathtub with my head in hand, I was grateful that he took me straight to bed, wholeheartedly agreeing that I needed peace and quiet, and a good night's rest.

Falling asleep almost straight away, I stirred once in the night - when Harry came home from the show, took a quick shower, then climbed into bed next to me - but other than that, I slept the best I had in months. The sleep did wonders, and I woke up the following morning feeling less like a zombie.

To my absolute horror, Harry's plan for our morning before heading to the venue was not to stay in bed and have sex until we were raw.

"Hiking? Like, up a hill?"

"Yes, Lil. Up a hill."

He chuckled at my horrified expression - and his little rhyme - before sliding out of bed, and wandering over to the window to open the blinds. Sunlight flooded the room and, for a moment, I forgot all about the hike. Framed by the surrounding hills and the city's skyline in the distance, all I could see was the always glorious sight of Harry's perfect, naked body. Rolling onto my side and patting the warm space he'd just left, I tried to tempt him back, much preferring the method of keeping fit I had planned.

"Sure you wouldn't rather just stay here and see how many rooms we can do it in?" I cooed, trying to sound as alluring as I could.

To my delight, Harry sauntered back over and knelt on the mattress with a mischievous look on his perfect face. Leaning over, he kissed me - his tongue slipping with mine while he peeled back the bed covers and brushed his hand down my ribs, over my hip, and onto my ass. Thrilled my plan seemed to be working, I put my hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer but let go quickly with a loud yelp as he slapped my bare behind with his open palm.

Crying out, I pouted, "Ow!"

"As much fun as that sounds," Harry smirked, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he rubbed where he'd struck, "you've been holed up in the house since you got here. You've come a long way for you to just hide away and not experience some of it."

"But... What if we're seen?" I mumbled, finally admitting to him why I was reluctant to go anywhere, and why I hadn't argued too strongly the night before when he suggested I stayed home.

I moved to sit cross-legged in front of Harry's kneeling form, and placed my hands on the front of his hips. With his penis at eye level, I momentarily considered trying to get him to stay home with my oral powers of persuasion, but clocking my gaze, he moved away with a roll of his eyes, and got off the bed.

"Then we'll ignore them and enjoy our day." Kissing my forehead and flashing a smile that told me the matter wasn't up for further discussion, Harry disappeared into his closet, and emerged moments later in loose black shorts with a white tee in hand. "Are you _that_ worried?" he asked, noticing I was still sitting on the end of the bed, staring out of the window. "Lil? Are you having cold feet?"

I snapped my head around to look at him, frowning at him when I saw genuine concern on his face. "Baby, of course not! I'm worried I'll do the wrong thing if we do get spotted, but I don't have cold feet. At all."

"In that case, all you have to do is just ignore them. I'll be with you, so just concentrate on me and what we're doing." Harry came back over to stand in front of me, taking my hands in his. "It's really... It'd be way too easy to stay here the whole time, but I want us to go do things. Together. We've spent long enough hiding away, and now we don't have to. If you do this now, then tonight won't seem so scary."

Staying silent while I tried to come up with an argument, I brought his ringless fingers up to my mouth and kissed along his knuckles. The previous day's headache was - though I was loathed to admit it - brought on by stress and worry about being seen at Harry's show. I had zero problem with it being known that I was in his life, but I did have a problem with the possible backlash it would cause. Or perhaps 'problem' was the wrong word, it concerned and scared me. There were lots of little steps to solidify our relationship, and being seen at his show days after it was reported that we were romantically involved was the final step to admitting there was truth to what had been written. But, it was time I stopped being a baby and put my big girl knickers on.

"You're right," I mumbled, hating that he was.

"Yes, I am. So, enough stalling, and go and get ready, please." Harry headed for the bedroom door, calling behind him as he disappeared from sight, "By the way, we can start doing it in every room tomorrow."

I heard his chuckle get quieter as he headed down the stairs, and I thought to myself, _'well, with that sort of incentive, how can I refuse a simple hike?'_

**-**

Despite making fun of my playlist of cheesy 90s music (his words, not mine), Harry had taken it upon himself to create a playlist that we could both add to. It was something that we could both add to when we were apart; songs that made us think of each other, or ones we wanted the other to hear.

As we drove to Runyon Canyon, Harry loudly played the songs we'd shared, singing along and tapping the wheel with the beat, or pointing out parts he really liked. It was an excellent distraction from the nerves, and it made me think of the drive we'd taken to his house the day we'd decided to give things another shot. Thinking about that day, and the honest conversation we'd had, it reminded me that I'd already made my decision about whether I could handle all facets of dating someone as well-known as Harry.

By the time he was parking the car, my nerves were settled enough that I was actually excited to be out with the man I loved, instead of being cooped up inside (as delightful as said coop was). The weather was already warm even though it was only mid-morning, and the sun shone brightly in a way I was not used to at home. It already felt like a good day, and although I wasn't in the slightest bit thrilled to be hiking, he was excited, so I was excited.

Getting out of the car and making our way to the large double gates, Harry threw his arm around my shoulder, seemingly without a care for anyone else. His confidence and lack of worry about us being recognised was contagious, and it made me realise that he really had come a long way from the person who'd cried because he was torn about what people would say about him being with me.

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, Harry said, "I was thinking, when we get back from our trip to Italy that we could go up to Holmes Chapel? I'd like to show you where I grew up, and introduce you to my friends. Also, and I know you won't believe me, but Mum's looking forward to seeing you."

"You're right. I don't believe you," I laughed, holding his hand as it hung against my chest. "Actually, she was so lovely the other day that I do believe you a little bit. I'd love that, though. I want to go and see where little Harry played, and try and get as many embarrassing stories as I can from your friends and family."

"Actually, on second thoughts..." His chuckle was heartfelt as he lightly hugged me to him. "Okay, I'll let Mum know when I speak to her."

I could see from the way his jaw unclenched that he'd been concerned I would refuse, but the truth was that I could never have refused to go and visit his hometown or to see Anne, even if I didn't want to go. Harry had made such an effort with my group of friends that I would do anything to reciprocate that, even if sometimes I felt like I was walking into the lion's den. If he could be around my ex-husband, then I could extend my friendship to anyone he introduced me to. After all, later that day I was going to be meeting Jeff's girlfriend Glenne at the show, and there were going to be lots of other people he was close with. He'd even casually mentioned that his ex-girlfriend, Kendall, was possibly coming, but had hastened to add that she would be there more as a friend of Jeff's than anything to do with him. I wasn't sure how I felt about that information at first (she - after all - had been the one he'd dated after telling me he loved me, and when he'd asked me to leave Will), but I would be polite if we were introduced. All of that had happened a long time ago, and really it was me who'd been the other woman then.

Halting my thoughts before they could descend further into a past that no longer mattered, I changed the subject to our planned holiday to Italy. "Y'know, we might have to rain-check Italy. I wasn't expecting a two-week trip to America when we talked about it, so I don't want to take too much time off work."

"Oh." Unable to disguise his initial disappointment, he quickly added, "well, I have to go for the Gucci thing either way, so we can judge it closer to the time."

"Yeah, I might be able to go for a couple of days at least. And if I can't come, then I'm sure I could wrangle a day or two off so that we can at least still go up to see your mum together." Putting my arm around the back of his waist, I placed a hand on his lower back, which had become damp with sweat. "I'm sorry. I was looking forward to some time away with you where you don't have to work and can relax."

Harry shook his head, "You don't have to apologise, baby, I get it. You have a business to run, and it's just as important as my work. We'll find another time to go away."

"I'll speak to Rose and Vicky when I get back."

To my surprise - considering how worried I'd been - our hike was completely uninterrupted. There weren't many people around, and those who were and recognised Harry, merely said hello or waved. His sixth sense caught someone taking our photo from a little further behind us, but he didn't seem bothered and shrugged it off, so I did the same. It was pleasant to simply enjoy the sun on our faces, and get to spend some quality time together before his last show of the tour.

Stopping suddenly, Harry led me to sit on an empty bench. He stretched his bare legs out to get the sun on them, and put a hand on my knee. "I can't believe tour's over already," he said with a pensive sigh as he looked out over the hazy city below. "It's gone so quickly."

Lifting up my water bottle like I was holding a microphone, I held it out to him, and asked, "So, now that it's almost over, has it been an enjoyable tour?"

He seemed almost bashful as he smiled and turned his head to look at me - leaning in to my imaginary mic. "It's been incredible, better than I could have ever imagined. It's why I do what I do."

"You'll be back doing it all over again before you know it, and you still have tonight." Leaning against his arm, I tilted my head back and was rewarded a light kiss on the lips. "I love you."

Harry let out a quiet, content hum, before saying, "I love you, too."

Before I ended up staying there in his gaze, I straightened up and took a drink of water - grimacing that it was already warm - and checked my phone. Dee had sent me my daily update on Stan; a photo of him snoozing in their washing basket, his ginger paw thrown over his face and wrapped around his stretched out legs so that he looked like a diver mid-dive. Like a proud mother, I showed Harry, who then took the phone from my hand to see better, and so he could make all of the right cooing noises over my cat. We hadn't discussed if he was going to take on the role of father to my fluffy son, but I appreciated his enthusiasm and support.

Holding my phone in his grip, I saw the cogs turning in his head, before suddenly he shifted even closer to me, stretched out his arm, and took our photo.

"Oh, yuck! I look terrible," I grumbled, shielding the screen from the sun so I could peer at the resulting picture.

"No, you don't. Besides, it's our first photo together," Harry grinned proudly, handing the phone back to me but not letting go of it until I kissed him.

"I'm positive that it isn't." Laughing, I squinted at it again and was pleasantly surprised to see that on closer inspection, we actually looked cute together. I set it as my background (home-screen only, lock-screen was reserved solely for Stan) and put my phone away.

"Alright, it's the first one we've actually taken." He rolled his eyes and shook his head, before tilting it to one side. As his hand moved to the nape of my neck, under my ponytail, he asked, "Ready to keep going, then?"

"Nope." Looking towards the steep incline we would be going up, I stuck out my bottom lip and whined, "My legs are going to hate you so much later."

Harry mimicked my pout, then, as his thumb stroked my neck, he put his mouth to my ear. "If we keep going, I promise tomorrow I'll make you feel so good that every single inch of you will be thanking me."

I was up off the bench in a flash, tugging him along with me while he cackled loudly, drawing glances from other hikers nearby. He called to me that I should pace myself, but I stupidly ignored him and kept going until my gusto started to falter halfway up the hill. My thighs ached, my chest burned, and I'd gone from a delicate sheen of perspiration to full-on sweat moustache and rosy cheeks. I felt like I was working out directly under a heat lamp, when I was far more used to countryside rambles on days when the rain was so fine and misty you didn't even realise you were getting soaked through.

"You're lucky I bloody love you," I panted, taking the final few painful steps to where the path levelled out flat and resisting the urge to fall to my knees. "I'm meant to be on bloody holiday! Tomorrow, we are doing Layla activities; shopping, cocktails, and sex."

"I did tell you to pace yourself," Harry giggled, demonstrating that he was younger and fitter than I was by barely being out of breath. I gave him the finger as I started to feel a little less winded, and dabbed at the sweat on my face with the back of my hand. Catching my wrist, he pulled me against him. "A promise is a promise, so we can definitely do whatever you want tomorrow. But are you saying this isn't fun?"

"I'm absolutely saying this is not fun, but-" he leaned in to kiss me, and I let go of my playful annoyance and softened "-you're fun, so I'm happy to do it."

Noticing the incredible view around us for the first time, I slipped away from his arms and went to admire it properly. I took some photos and a video, then posted them in the group chat I shared with my friends. The last message had been from Terry, and although it had once been constant with conversations, memes, and pictures, none of us had used it since. But our little group already felt fractured with the loss of Terry and my awkwardness with Will, and I didn't want to lose the closeness we'd all once had.

"Jeff would drag me out on hikes to distract me when we broke up," Harry said, coming to stand behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. Hearing the emotion in his voice, I put my phone away and placed my hands on his, leaning back against him. "I'd come to L.A. to try and escape how much I missed you, but when I'd stand here, usually hungover, I just wished you were with me."

I hummed in agreement and understanding, and turned my head to kiss his cheek. We rarely spoke about our break up - certainly not in the sense of discussing the ugly, nitty-gritty details of how horrible we felt - but it suddenly made sense why he'd been insistent on us going on a hike.

"I had those moments, too."

This admission seemed to surprise him. "Really?"

"Sure! The worst was when the five of us first went away. We went to Morocco, I was fifth wheeling with two couples who were besotted with each other, and being in such a beautiful place I shouldn't have really cared, but I did." Turning my whole body around so we were face to face, I leant my forehead against his. "I couldn't stop thinking about what you were doing, where you were, and how your life was."

Harry inhaled sharply and kissed me, pressing his lips firmly against mine. I was always weirdly amazed when he mentioned a memory of us that I'd forgotten, or when he told me he spotted something that had made him think of me - especially while we weren't speaking. From the way his need to kiss me had seemed to overwhelm him, I wondered if he'd been hit with the same feeling of love I got, one that came from knowing I had thought of him at a time when he'd believed I didn't care at all.

"Problem is, if we break up again, I'll have to find a new city to escape to, and I do have quite a lot of friends here," he grinned, bumping his nose against mine.

"I guess the solution to that is not to break up."

"Oh, trust me, I already know that's not going to happen."

"No?"

Shaking his head, Harry smiled confidently. "Nope!"

"Okay, that's fine with me." I shrugged my shoulders with a smile, giggling as I reached on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. Pressing my body as close as I could to his, I mumbled against his lips, "Can we go home now? Get a headstart on some of those rooms?"

"Absolutely."


	19. Los Ageless

_(Harry photo credit to_ [ _lvflwimn_ ](https://www.wattpad.com/user/lvflwimn) _! Thank you love!💕)_

**\---**

By the time we got to The Forum, I felt the most nervous I had ever been before one of Harry's shows. I wasn't sure if I was more anxious about the prospect of being recognised for the first time as Harry's rumoured girlfriend, or about meeting all of the friends I'd heard so much about. Either way, it was nice to see the band and all the crew again, and they were all as welcoming as they had been at the other shows I'd been to. Even those who I suspected had told Joel about Harry and me.

Jeff and his fiance Glenne arrived at the venue shortly after we did. I hadn't had the chance to meet her before, and just like Jeff, I knew that in the past she'd discouraged Harry from being involved with me. I had no idea how she felt about me now - if she didn't give a shit about Jeff and me being fine with each other, and still harboured some dislike for how I'd hurt her friend. Or if we were going to leave the past behind and be at the very least civil to one another for the sake of Harry.

We exchanged hellos and hugged, both of us wary of each other.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, at last! I've heard so much about you," I smiled warmly, hoping I sounded genuine.

I nearly dropped to the floor with relief when my smile was returned and Glenne replied, "it's so nice to meet you, too, at last. Are you feeling better today?"

"Much better, thank you. I slept a lot, and then got dragged on a lovely hike this morning."

She let out a laugh - one that told me she was familiar with Harry and his hikes - before gesturing that we went and sat on some chairs nearby. "Don't tell Harry, but Jeff was a little relieved that he didn't have to go hiking today. So, how're you liking L.A. so far? Harry said you've never been before, right?"

"No, this is my first time, and it's been great so far! The hike was not fun, but it was nice to get out and do stuff." Glancing in Harry's direction as he chatted away with Jeff and Mitch, I felt a wave of warmth wash over me. I turned back to Glenne, feeling much calmer than I had seconds before. "I'm excited to see more, though! I like doing touristy things, even in London."

There was a strange look on her face for a moment, like she'd been trying to find any little hint of my intentions towards her friend and had suddenly found what she was looking for. Blinking the expression away with a subtle shake of the head, she sat up straight and said, "Well, he can't really do anything touristy without it turning into a whole thing, but you and I could go together when he's in the studio if you wanted? We could go do the Walk of Fame, catch one of those open-top buses, and maybe do some shopping on Rodeo Drive. Things that everyone should do at least once when they visit!"

"Well, we'll have to see what my bank account says about that last one, but the others will be fun! " I chuckled. "I've always wanted to go to the Griffith Observatory ever since I watched James Dean in 'Rebel Without A Cause' in History class. Only if you don't mind, of course?"

Glenne waved her hand that it was no problem, "Not at all! It'll be a chance for us to get to know each other, and I'm sure we'll have an awesome time."

"I agree."

Discussing where we would like to go for our planned day out, and then setting up arrangements for the four of us to go out to dinner, we sat and chatted a little longer. She was as sweet as Harry told me she was, and despite all my concerns, I felt completely at ease with her. Speaking to her confirmed what I'd known in logical moments, when my mind wasn't playing tricks on me and believing everything was a personal attack; Harry's friends and family weren't evil villains in a book or a movie, they were real people looking out for someone they loved. They had been right to worry back then, because he and I weren't right for each other at that point. I hoped that the ease in which we were slotting into each other's lives was a positive sign that we were much better suited now.

As it got closer to Harry going on stage, everything became the usual blur of preparations, but this time it was doubly intensified, considering it was the final show. Going to get changed into the last suit of the tour, he gestured for me to follow him so that we could have a moment alone before I went out to my seat.

"Are you okay? You and Glenne seem to be getting on well," Harry asked, taking off his t-shirt and throwing it over the back of his dressing room chair. As always, it was difficult to think straight when he was semi-undressed.

"Yeah, she's really nice." Sitting down, I crossed my legs and watched with a keen eye as he undressed. "She's going to come with me to do some sightseeing one day when you're in the studio, which should be fun."

He flashed me a smile as he stood in the middle of the room, naked, and looking pleased as he spritzed and sprayed himself with deodorant and cologne. "Good."

Perhaps it was the shedding of secrets and the steps being taken to fully be with each other completely - or maybe it was the jet-lag playing havoc with my hormones - but ever since I'd arrived in L.A., I was overwhelmed with how much I loved Harry and was attracted to him. Just the simple act of watching him pull on a pair of black trousers and a white shirt - which he only half-buttoned, meaning there were tantalising glimpses of his tattoos - was mind-blowingly erotic.

Tearing my eyes away before I leapt on him, I glanced down at my watch and was disappointed to discover that we didn't have time for any naughtiness before he went on stage. "How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited? Sad? All of the above?"

"All of the above and more. Looking forward to some time off, but gutted it's over, and-" he took a few steps closer to me, hooking a finger under my chin so that I tilted my head back to look at him- "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad, too."

Harry leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips, humming happily as he did so. I was glad to be there with him, too. I didn't want to be anywhere else but at his side on a night I knew was so significant to him.

**-**

Out in the stadium, I went with the rest of Harry's friends and team to our seats. Just as I was about to sit down, Jeff reached across Glenne to get my attention, and introduced me to a man whose name I'd heard plenty of times before; Ben Winston.

"We meet at last!" Ben smiled, getting up so we could quickly hug each other hello. "I can't believe it's taken us so long."

I couldn't believe he'd had any idea who I was, but I kept that thought to myself and smiled, "I know, me too. Better late than never!"

Making a quick promise to chat properly later, we both sat back down in our seats. When I thought about it, it didn't actually surprise me that Ben had known for a while who I was. Back when Harry and I had first started our affair, he had been having work done on his house, so he'd spent a lot of his time in London staying with friends, including Ben and his wife, Meredith. (In fact, when I'd been in my downward spiral after discovering the truth about Will and Terry, and I'd been questioning Harry's motives behind him pursuing me, I'd wondered if he'd been staying with the Winstons because he had a liking for married women.)

Deep in thought, I watched the animation of Harry's hands solving a Rubik's Cube on the enormous circular screen that was obscuring the stage, until suddenly the lights dimmed, and the screen slowly began to rise. The noise that erupted was almost deafening, the screams and cheers demonstrating that it wasn't only Harry who was full of excitement at the importance of it being the last night.

Watching the screen, my thoughts turned to Terry, wishing I could hear him getting excited about the mechanism rising just one more time. I was struck once again with the feeling of guilt for not having gone to Wales with Will and Mia to spread his ashes. Will had sent me photographs he'd taken of the most beautiful sunset on Harlech beach, (which was a place Terry had visited almost every summer as a boy, and often talked about with fondness) and that had made me feel better for a little while, but I couldn't help but regret not being there.

I tried to focus on Harry and enjoy the show. He glittered and shone in his black and gold embellished military-style jacket, moving around the stage and giving everything he had to his final audience. Pride didn't seem to really sum up how I felt watching him, but my chest felt like it was close to bursting with love, pride, adoration, and excitement for him, blown away at the confidence and how comfortable he seemed to be in the spotlight. I was doing everything I could to solely focus on him, but my mind seemed determined to wander off and find things to worry about.

Glancing around, I saw out of the corner of my eye in the row behind us, stood a few seats away, was Harry's ex-girlfriend, Kendall. My stomach dropped and jealousy hit me like a brick to the face. I was aware that she was coming to the show, but seeing her in person for the first time was definitely something I couldn't fully prepare for.

I held no ill feelings towards her, Harry had told me that she hadn't really known who I was to him until fairly recently, and that he'd kept the details of us to a minimum when they'd been discussing past relationships. It had been Harry who had started dating her while we were still having an affair, and whatever they'd had after that had nothing to do with me. But she did make me doubt myself, how could she not? Tall and slim, naturally beautiful, and from what I'd garnered from the girls at work when we'd been discussing our favourite trash TV, she possessed a personality to boot. I'd learned to be kinder to myself, and accept that I was worthy of the good things I had in my life, but she made me feel like a bridge troll in comparison.

Turning back to watch Harry before Kendall noticed me staring at her, I prayed that I could reign in the anxiety - which was threatening to overtake all rationality - and quash it. But, as I watched the man I loved chatting with fans in the audience before moving onto the next song, I grew more self-aware and self-conscious. Music vibrated through me, but I felt none of the usual comfort that would have normally brought. I started to notice that a couple of people were pointing their phones in my direction, and although a small, distant voice told me that maybe they were also taking photos or filming people they knew to be Harry's friends, or Kendall, or the various other well-known people around me, paranoia came in stronger and told me it was me they were looking at.

My being at Harry's show was further proof that he and I were definitely together, we had known that would be the case, but in the reality of the moment every inch of my body was suddenly screaming about being so exposed.

It was the worst time and place for it to happen, but the rollercoaster of the previous six months suddenly began to take its toll. My break up with Joel, Harry coming back into my life, Bianca turning up, Terry dying, my whole life becoming public knowledge to complete strangers, and the not knowing who I could trust, piled together with Harry's supermodel ex-girlfriend and the feeling of judgmental eyes on me, it was all too much. I wanted to lay down on the floor and block the whole world out until I could be alone in the safety of Harry's house.

For a moment, as I sank my nails into the heels of my palm to distract myself from the need to cry, I felt like the old me; feeling inadequate and scared, putting up a wall of defence to hide that I was in pain. I wasn't with people I could possibly be vulnerable with, I couldn't tell Harry's friends that I was having a moment of doubt over if I could really be in the life Harry lived, because they would regard it as me having doubts about the relationship. Everyone else seemed to be having fun, enjoying the night for the important event it was, but I felt trapped in a bubble of anxiety that wouldn't allow me to join in on the party.

If it wasn't for the fact it would only draw more attention to me, I would have left and called Rose for some reassurance. I knew she'd been working an event, and although she would probably be home already, maybe she hadn't gone to bed yet. She would know what to say to calm me down. She'd remind me that all of the worry and paranoia was a figment of my imagination, that it wasn't real, and that I'd already made my decision about if I could face all that came with being Harry's girlfriend. I was justified in my concerns, but none of it was as important as it seemed, and she'd tell me to remember that I loved him, and that I was strong enough to handle and adjust to this sudden change. She would say all of the things I needed to hear, and all of the things I would say to her if the roles were reversed.

Closing my eyes while Harry sang ' _Sign of the Times_ ' - his voice powerful and hitting deep in my chest as I heard the emotion about the last show behind his words - I listened to his voice and began to finally find the strength to take back the control of the panic coursing through my body. Rose's imagined words, and the sound of Harry singing slowly began to calm me, and I felt the rigid tightness that had stopped me being able to sway or even sing along to the music begin to loosen its hold on my joints. Jaw relaxing, and being able to move my arms and legs, I could finally take steadying deep breaths.

As darkness fell through my closed lids, and the band briefly left the stage, I felt a hand gently being placed on my arm - the touch strange and fully pulling me from the fog my anxiety had pulled me into. When I opened my eyes, Glenne was looking at me with genuine concern, and I imagined I probably seemed insane.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Are you sick?"

I shook my head, ready to brush it off as nothing, but heard myself say, "I got a bit freaked out, thinking like people were watching me."

Understanding swept across her pretty face, and the light touch on my arm became a squeeze of reassurance. "Yeah, I can't say you'll get used to that, but you will learn to kind of ignore it."

"Oh excellent," I replied with a slight grimace, unsure if it was a good thing I hadn't been imagining the attention. "I'm glad it wasn't just my paranoia."

Glenne chuckled, and I hoped there would come a time when I could be so blase about everything. I was already feeling much calmer, but my heart was still racing.

We turned our focus back to the stage when the lights went back up, and Harry and the band came back out for the encore. As the arena fell almost totally silent while he sang ' _From The Dining Table_ ', bringing a quiet lull that would soon be gone and replaced with the excitement of ' _The Chain_ ' and ' _Kiwi_ ', calmness seemed to once again be in my grasp.

Noticing a growing stinging in my hands, I looked down at my palms, and at the red, half-moon dents left by my own nails.

**-**

Backstage after the show, Harry was exhausted but flying sky-high. Dripping in sweat from having closed the show with not one, not two, but three performances of ' _Kiwi_ ', he quickly kissed me on the cheek and told me he needed to go and shower. His presence was immediately reassuring, and as he disappeared into his dressing room, I could not understand why something had bothered me so much that it almost caused me to have a full-blown anxiety attack.

Still, I felt drained, and I didn't want to ruin Harry's night. He wanted to stay and have some fun with the people he'd spent months touring with, and I didn't want to hold him back by sitting on the sidelines with a face like a slapped arse - that was too reminiscent of my marriage to Will. So, I stayed long enough to be sociable and for him to introduce me to more of his friends, and then I told him to stay while I went back to the house.

As I said goodbye to everyone, Jeff approached me, and after he hugged me with surprising warmth, he stepped back and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I want you to know, I'm doing all I can to find out who went to the media."

"Thank you, Jeff, I appreciate it. I'm just so embarrassed it's happened at all. I guess I feel that more than anger now I've processed it." I sighed and looked over at Harry, who was grinning at something Ben was saying. "Someone I know did that to us. Probably someone I've known for a long time and trust."

"It's not your fault, Layla," Jeff shrugged, "sadly, it comes with the territory of having Harry in your life; there is always someone wanting something from him."

"I'm learning that, and it's not easy to realise just how little people can be trusted. At this point I just want to know who it was so that I can never have them in my space ever again. For my sake and Harry's. Of course it'll be painful if it is someone I'm really close with, but..." Gaze wandering back over to Harry again, he turned his head and caught me watching him. His eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, and after returning his smile, I turned back to his best friend and said, with a confidence and certainty I had been missing during my moment of anxiety, "He's worth it, though."

Jeff looked down and laughed, making me wonder if he thought I was being insincere or cheesy.

"What?" I asked warily.

"Nothing. It's just... he's always said exactly the same thing about you." 


	20. Naked

Harry was quiet as we drove home from dinner with Jeff and Glenne. At first - when I saw his tight grip on the steering wheel - I thought maybe I had done something which had annoyed him. When we'd left the restaurant he'd been in high spirits, but the paparazzi had crowded us on the way to the car - just as they had on the way in, also - so I wondered if that was why his jaw was clenched and two, deep lines sat on the space between his brows.

Since the overwhelming anxiety of the previous night, I'd been semi on edge. I'd managed to keep it hidden from Harry, and we'd enjoyed a lazy day in bed having sex and watching movies, but I just could not fully shake the ball of worry sitting like a weight in my tummy.

Dinner had been pleasant, and the conversation between the four of us had flowed far easier than I had anticipated. I'd even remembered to extend Rose's invitation to the wedding, which then prompted Harry to question if he was invited because I hadn't told him if he was going to be my plus one or not. I'd playfully told him that his friends were definitely invited, but the jury was still out on him.

We'd all had a really nice time getting to know each other, and as I hugged two of Harry's closest friends goodnight, I genuinely felt like there had never been any animosity or bad feelings between any of us. That had helped me feel a whole lot less stressed, but the sudden silence in the car from someone who'd been all smiles and laughter only half an hour before, brought back horrible memories of Will's silent treatment when we'd been married. I repeatedly told myself that Harry was nothing like Will, that perhaps he was just tired and focused on getting home, but I was having difficulty getting a good grip on logic and reason since the newspaper article had come out.

It was only when we pulled up to the gates to his house, waiting for them to slowly slide apart, that Harry finally turned his head and looked at me. His expression made my stomach flip - the intense look in his eyes as they scanned over me, and the smirking curve of his swollen bottom lip from him biting on it the whole drive home. I knew that we wouldn't be making it into the house. In fact, the garage doors were still closing behind us when he stopped the car, and quickly unbuckled his seatbelt before reaching to undo mine.

Free to move, he leaned over and kissed me, his tongue pushing apart my lips so it could mingle with mine. I quietly exclaimed when I suddenly felt the back of my seat reclining, but Harry's hand on my back kept me upright so our kiss wouldn't be broken.

"In the car?" I asked as he moved his lips down to the spot on my neck he knew always left me weak. Losing focus on where we were, I moaned and added, "You do know there is a whole house, right?"

Harry let out a low, rumbling noise against my throat in response, that was half groan and half growl. There was a tense, gravel-like quality that I hadn't heard since our clawing reconciliation in my hallway, and it sent a delicious thrill all through me.

"Can't wait. Need you now."

Carefully manoeuvring his whole body over me and pushing my knees apart, he moved into the limited space between my legs and knelt on the edge of my seat. Working as a team, we pulled apart so I could lift off of the seat and pull up my dress, while he pulled down my panties and pushed them down to my ankles so that I could kick them off. Free to open up wider for him, with one knee against the door and the other foot on the driver's seat, I reached down to touch myself as Harry watched intently and unfastened his trousers.

His cock was hard, and he groaned with relief as it was freed from the restraints of his briefs. Running a skilled hand up and down the length of the shaft, he told me, "I've been rock hard since we left the restaurant, that's why I couldn't talk. I needed to get you home."

"I thought you were annoyed."

Wanting to take him in my mouth before we fucked, I sat up and reached out to stroke him. He felt big in my hand, as he always did, and the silky-smooth skin radiated heat as his cock throbbed against my palm. I parted my lips and lowered my tongue down to lick the flat of it over his swollen head, and Harry let out a quiet whimper. I enveloped him fully, sucking him into my mouth as far as I comfortably could, while his fingers on one hand sank deep into my hair, and the other steadied himself against the dashboard.

"Christ, Lil," Harry whispered, hips rolling with the bobs of my head, "if you keep doing that I'm gonna c-"

A moan overtook him, rendering him unable to finish what he was saying. But, getting the gist - and wanting to feel him inside of where I ached - I stopped and pulled his swollen head from my mouth with a quiet 'pop!'

I looked up at him and continued to stroke him with my hand until his grip in my hair tightened, and I was pushed onto my back. Resuming our needy kiss and moving further up the seat as it lay almost flat on the back seat, heavy breaths and quiet moans filled the car. Harry lay between my thighs and I grabbed at the front of his shirt to keep him close, pushing my hips up to meet him eagerly. The weight of his body on mine seemed to make the empty neediness even worse, our closeness only heightening that we still weren't close enough yet. Wrapping a leg over his behind, I moaned for him to fuck me.

Eyes locked and breaths held, we watched each other's reactions as he pushed into me. Watching his eyelids fall half closed, and the corners of his mouth curving in a lazy, blissful smile that seemed like he'd momentarily found the meaning to life - it turned me on more than anything else.

"Does that feel good, my love?" I asked, breath shaking as I noticed the familiar furrow of his brow appear while I clenched and relaxed my muscles around him. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Mhmmm." Starting to move his hips slowly, Harry pressed a fervent kiss to my lips before mumbling against them, "You always feel so good, baby, and I am so fucking proud of you tonight. I'm used to people staring at me, but seeing them looking at you and at how beautiful you are, I wanted to take you to the toilets and have you in there."

I clung to him and kissed his jaw as his voice in my ear added to the tingles coursing all over my body. It was almost tempting to tease him and act coy, but with the thrusting strokes of his cock filling me, and the car rocking with our motions, I found myself turned on by his words. I had been so terrified of being seen with him - or that I would embarrass him in some way - that relief and happiness were manifesting as arousal. As if reading my mind, Harry nipped at my earlobe, and continued on with his praise of me.

"Honestly, Lil," my name cracked in his voice as his hand moved under me to grab my ass, squeezing it and holding me in place so he could go as deep as possible, "you've been so amazing, so brave and so funny. I know you've been scared, and... and-"

A wave of pleasure hit him, and words were forgotten for the moment, replaced with profanities and a sighed 'I love you'. Lips connecting in the dark, we kissed as he rushed towards his climax, hips picking up pace and fucking me hard and fast. He whispered that he was about to come, then let out a low, guttural whine, his whole body shuddering and tensing while he emptied himself inside me.

Letting his body relax and fall limp, Harry exhaled with an embarrassed chuckle, and moved to rest his head on my shoulder. I stroked my fingers through his hair, humming when I felt him pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone.

"I know we should go inside, but I don't want to let go of you yet." I sighed, playing with a small, slightly damp curl at the nape of his neck and enjoying the weight of his body on me. "If it wasn't for the cramp setting in my right thigh, I'd say we should just stay here like this all night."

"We'll go inside in a minute, my backside's already going numb from the cold, but..." Placing a tender hand on my cheek, he turned my head and kissed me again, slowly this time, "I'm enjoying being this close to you too. This feels like the first time I've really had you all to myself with nowhere to go and no distractions."

"I know. I'm not sure I like this whole 'sharing you with other people' nonsense. Can we go back to just spending days in a hotel, not seeing anyone and having an obscene amount of sex?"

"Ohh, I dunno if I want to go back to having you hidden away. Will you wear all that lingerie you used to wear for me? With the stockings and suspenders?" he said, before humming as his tongue swept his tongue over mine, his previous vigour already returning.

"Of course. I might even have some with me that I haven't had the chance to wear yet."

"What?! Right! Let's g-"

Harry moved as though he was about to get up, and we both giggled when I pulled him back down so he couldn't get away. Wrapping my legs tight around the back of his legs, I brushed my lips against his and mumbled, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Kissing me deeply, he then let out a groan and reached to put my hand on his chilly bottom. "My arse has gone totally numb! Let's go inside. Or how about we go for a swim? I still need to see you in that red bikini."

**-**

Harry went straight out to the pool, while I headed upstairs to clean up and get changed. When I came back downstairs, I found him already in the water, gliding effortlessly through the dimly-lit steam, naked and unaware that I had returned. As he swam, there were minimal splashes when he kicked his legs or his arms rose and rotated back into the water. It did not surprise me to discover that Harry was even good at swimming, something I hadn't even learned to do until I moved to Ibiza.

Spotting two wine glasses - one half-full and one empty - and an open bottle of red by the edge of the pool, I went and sat down next to them, and poured myself a glass. The water was cool and soothing on my aching feet as I lowered them into the pool, and as I looked around to glance at my surroundings, I basked in what a pretty wonderful night it had been. Even the red wine, which I usually found to be far too heavy and bitter for me, tasted sweet and delicious.

"I can get you something else if you'd prefer." Harry said, as he swam back towards me.

I shook my head and raised my glass to him. "No, this is fine."

When he was within touching distance, he reached for my knees and parted them so that he could slot himself between the gap. Arms wet so his tattoos glittered and shone, he let them rest on my thighs, while his fingers crept up to my hips to idly toy with the ties on the red bikini he'd been eager to see me in.

Quirking an eyebrow up suggestively, he tugged lightly at one of the double-knotted bows to see if it would come loose. "These come right off, hmm?"

"Not yet they don't." Playfully tapping his hand away, I picked up his wine and handed it to him so that we could toast. "To a fairly successful evening!"

Petulantly refusing to clink his glass against mine, Harry pouted for a moment, before a smile spread across his wine-soaked lips. "I think we can do better than that. Here's to Glenne telling me, and I quote, 'We were wrong. Layla's lovely, and I can't wait to get to know her'."

My face broke into a beaming grin and I nodded as we toasted, eyes fixed on each other over the rim of our glasses as we drank. Yet another hurdle conquered, together. I was relieved that his friends - especially those who hadn't been so keen on me in the past - liked me. But I was also just as relieved that I liked them in return.

Setting his drink down on the floor next to me, and lowering his head down, Harry kissed my right knee. Lips parted, and his breath warm, he began to travel up my thigh, sending a tingle up the nape of my neck. I stroked a hand over his wet hair, smoothing the loose curls off his face and watching as he ran his tongue along the delicate strip of skin at the edge of my bikini.

As a quiet, involuntary gasp escaped from my mouth, he looked up at me with eyes that glistened with devilish intent. "Are you getting in then?"

I nodded my head, and although Harry's fingers still toyed with the strings keeping my bottoms tied together, he didn't pull them apart, but instead, stood up so that we were eye-level. Tiny waves lapped at his bare hips, while droplets of water raced down his chest to meet them. Leaning in, he hesitated, hovering just close enough that I could feel his breath on my face, and I tried to be patient, but the need became too much. I put a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss, which he returned with pleasure.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck, Harry lifted me off the edge of the pool and lowered me into the not-as-warm-as-one-would-hope-for water. He giggled when I yelped at the water hitting my lower back, then we continued to exchange kisses as we moved to the middle where it was deeper.

"The steam made it seem like this would be much warmer," I laughed, unhooking my legs and moving away from him so I could swim a little and warm up. It wasn't cold, just colder than expected, more like a warm bath that's been left to cool for too long.

"It's not that bad. And I'm naked." Grinning, he added, "Maybe that's the answer."

My toes barely touched the floor as I dropped them down and immersed myself underwater. Pulling at the strings of my bikini top, I then returned to the surface holding it aloft before throwing it over Harry's head and onto the concrete, where it landed with a splat. He let out a joyous laugh, but made no attempt to come closer or touch me, just watched as I laid my head back and kicked my legs back to let myself float on the surface, breasts exposed to the cool night air.

I stared up at the starless sky, and moved my fingers slowly, back and forth through the water. "This is the moment. I want to pause tonight and stay in it forever."

"Done!" Harry chuckled. "Like _'Bernard's Watch'_."

"Oh! I loved that show!" Giggling, I remembered the children's TV show about a young boy who had a watch with the ability to stop time. "Age gap? What age gap?"

There was so much darkness about my childhood that it was nice on the rare occasion I was able to recall a moment with fondness (and it was even better when it was something that Harry remembered, too; like a TV show). I thought about Paula still being clean and sober, pregnant with Bianca, and the two of us having dinner in front of the television watching CITV. We'd tell each other what we would do with Bernard's watch, because he only seemed to do mundane things with it. The memory was warm and full of love, and it oddly made me homesick - though more for a time rather than a place.

Thinking about my mother brought a wave of sadness over me, so I pushed my feet down and went back to treading water, turning to face Harry again. His green eyes stared at me with an intensity I suspected I'd never get used to, and the lights under the water made his face shimmer. I was swept up in a moment where I was disbelieving that anyone could possibly be so beautiful, or that in some ways I could call him my own. Love pushed aside my sadness over a forgotten memory, and I once again felt the wish to live in what had been a perfect evening, forever.

"Still feeling cold?" Harry asked, running his hands through his hair and breaking eye contact as though embarrassed by his unabashed stare.

I shook my head, and mirrored his action. Using the very tips of my toes to keep me steady on the white tiles, I smoothed the hair back off my face, then slid my hands down my chest, grazing over my nipples, down my stomach, until I reached the red string bows on my hips. Harry watched me with interest - his ring-adorned hands floating idly on the water in front of him - and smiled mischievously as the lower half of my bikini appeared on the surface between us.

Innocently, I said, "Y'know something? Believe it or not, I have never had sex in a swimming pool before."

Suddenly, we were moving towards each other, but Harry didn't stop when we were back to being wrapped up together. He carried me backwards through the water until I was up against the side of the pool, with his naked body pressed against me, warm and strong. He parted my thighs with his knee to settle between them, and cupped my breasts with both hands.

Leaning in to kiss me, his voice a low whisper that sent chills of excitement through me, he said, "Well, James, I think we're going to have to change that, don't you?"


	21. Don't Go Away

I spent the majority of the flight home alternating between crying into my lap and sleeping. Soaking the sleeve of my hoodie with tears, I turned away to face the window and hoped that nobody would notice me. I couldn't eat, I only drank water to keep myself hydrated from crying most of the liquid out of my body, and I couldn't focus on anything but the melancholy songs I was stupidly listening to - less ' _Crying in the Rain_ ' and more 'Crying on a Plane'.

**\---**

Other than my moment of panic at Harry's show, everything had been so perfect; I was getting along with his friends, he and I were having a wonderful time playing house and doing things together like a normal couple, and we'd even had a lovely moment with some of his fans who had been very sweet to me when I offered to take their photos with Harry because their hands were shaking. I'd been so worried that maybe I would feel out of place in his daily life outside of our safety net of London, but actually, it had been wonderful.

But then, the day before I was due to leave, it had all gone horribly wrong.

It had all started after Jeff and I had had a quick chat about mine and Layla-Rose Events' social media accounts. I'd pretty much avoided any social media since arriving in L.A., and unless someone contacted me directly, and I was close to them, I hadn't been responding. But while my own personal account was already private, it wasn't feasible to do the same with the company accounts. Jeff had just suggested that damage control was part common sense and part speed; change our passwords regularly, don't use one that was stupid like ' Password123', block certain words, and be quick to delete any that slipped through. If the worst came to the worst, we'd have to disable comments, but at least then we would still be able to post about our clients and their events.

I was supposed to be packing while Harry was working out, but instead - and like a fucking idiot - I decided to procrastinate and open the Pandora's box that was Instagram. My personal account had mostly been swamped with follow and message requests from strangers, and there was the odd nosy friend or acquaintance who was trying their luck at fishing for some details - that I could cope with, but when I switched to the business account, I wished I'd stuck to dealing with my luggage.

I scrolled through the comments on the latest post, and read the words mostly loaded with hate, feeling my stomach drop. Rose told me everything was under control and that there wasn't anything too worrying that couldn't wait until I got back, but she'd lied. I could see from gaps and timestamps that comments had been deleted, but the volume of people spewing vitriol under our posts was obviously too much for Gabby - our lone social media manager - to handle alone. Unless Vicky or Rose were deleting anything after office hours closed, there wasn't anybody to deal with it once 6 o'clock rolled around.

_Old._

_Fat._

_Ugly._

_Predator._

_Money grabber._

_Slut._

_Bitch._

_Whore._

_Attention seeker._

_Beard._

Every comment I read made me feel sick to my stomach, but the word 'beard' seemed to hit harder than the rest, harder than I'd expected it to. They claimed I was a 'professional beard' because of my marriage to Will, and that I'd been hired because Harry was in a closeted relationship with one of his former bandmates. They were taking my actual life and turning it into some nonsense theory, hating me because of a lie they _themselves_ had created. Harry had warned me of what would likely happen, but seeing it for myself in comments under pictures of mine and Rose's hard work, under pictures of our team and our clients, it was far worse than I could have ever imagined.

Letting my phone fall down onto the floor next to me, I hugged my knees to my chest and started to cry. My heart raced and the same hollow feeling of unbearable panic that I'd experienced at Harry's final show began to fill my chest until I was almost gulping at the air around me to try and breathe properly again. I felt powerless to the number of people who were leaving comments with fully formed ideas of what kind of person I was. I wanted to tell them that they were wrong, but I knew that it would only fuel the fire.

It had been a long time since I'd had an anxiety attack to the level I was experiencing as I sat on the floor of Harry's closet, and I was out of practice when it came to dealing with it. Most people have a tendency to experience fight or flight in moments of extreme panic or anxiety, but I had come to discover that I would usually experience the lesser-known freeze. All those times I'd been unable to speak up when I was unhappy, when I hadn't been capable of defending myself as Will berated me, and when I'd sat in a horrible flat for two days instead of getting help - it all was linked to how my body would begin to shut down. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I often couldn't even form cohesive thoughts, I would simply... freeze up.

Very slowly, and with all of the strength I could muster to move my arm, I reached down for my phone and called the last number I'd spoken to - Rose. I was furious with her, but she was the only person I could face talking to without worrying Harry.

She answered the phone after a couple of rings, her laughter on loudspeaker filling the room as she said, "Bird, I know you're missing me, but you're seeing me tomorrow!"

"I can't breathe."

"What's the matter?" The jovial tone was gone in a flash, and she lowered her voice to sound soothing. "You're okay, Lil, whatever it is, you're okay. Just breathe."

I breathed as deeply and slowly as I could manage while she encouraged me, just like she had done so many times before. There was no question, no real need for immediate explanation, she simply knew what I needed to help me regain control.

"I'm sorry, are you busy?" I asked, the gasps of air becoming easier to take, the hinges of my jaw beginning to loosen up again so that I could at least communicate a little.

"Don't be silly, Lil, when are we ever too busy for each other?" Rose's voice was familiar and safe, I closed my eyes and pretended I was at home with Stan and my friends, suddenly feeling completely out of my depth in Harry's not-so-humble abode. "Where's Harry? Did he do some-"

"No, no, he's fine!" It dawned on me that my call must have led her to believe that something had gone wrong with him, that maybe he'd been getting up to his old tricks again. Moving so that I was bent over in an almost fetal position, with my forehead pressed against the cream carpeted floor, I inhaled deeply and was finally able to fill my lungs. "I went to look at our social media, and I saw all of the comments."

Groaning, Rose momentarily forgot she was meant to be reassuring me, "You're an idiot. Why would you do that?"

"I know. But Jeff gave me some advice on how to deal with the social media side, and I wanted to check to see what we'd been doing." Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to block out the horrid words I'd read as they re-exploded into my mind's eye. "They really fucking hate me, huh?"

"It's been... a lot. But I was going to tell you when you got back, there's honestly nothing you can do at the moment, and-"

"Why do I get the feeling there's more?"

She hesitated, pausing so that she didn't say the wrong thing. "W-what do you mean?"

The slight stutter was the giveaway that the question I'd asked - before I'd fully even registered the thought - was confirmation that she was keeping other things from me. I pictured coming back to London to find our whole staff had marched out, and that Rose was answering multiple spring-wired phones with steam coming out of her ears like an old cartoon.

"You know what I mean. It's not just the flood of comments, what else? Did we lose clients?" Sitting up, I prepared for her answer. I wasn't sure how I would deal or cope if my love life had led to us losing business. Rose was silent. "Rose? Just tell me."

"We lost _A_ client, just one! I promise I was going to tell you tomorrow the moment I picked you up from the airport."

"Who was it?"

"Does it matter?" She sighed. "We're not going to go begging for them to come back."

Mirroring her sigh, I leant back against one of the wardrobe doors and rubbed at my temple as it throbbed. "I suppose not." Silence. "Shit. Did they say why?"

"Well... It's not just us who're getting barraged with shitty comments. They're commenting on our client's posts, too, telling them that they shouldn't work with you, etcetera."

"Are you kidding me?!" I cried out, putting my hand to the floor as the room started to spin. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, Lil. They're crazy? They're young and don't know how the real world works or the bigger impact of what they're doing." Rose sighed again, but this time it was more to change the tone of the conversation, "Listen, try not to worry about it, okay? We're all getting pretty good at putting out fires here, and I've already talked to someone from Harry's team earlier today."

"You have?" Surprised, I wondered if Jeff had had something to do with it after we'd spoken the night before.

"Yes, and Jen and Steph have been helping Gabby. We noticed that there was a fresh wave of comments when either you two were seen, or we posted something new. If those are the ones you read, then they just haven't gotten to them to delete anything yet." Her voice was soft, soothing me as I realised I was breathing heavily again. "I promise, it's going to be fine."

"I'm so sorry you've all had to deal with this," I sniffed, fresh tears blurring my vision from guilt and mortification.

"Don't let this ruin your last night there, okay? You don't have to apologise, this isn't your fault."

Wiping my eyes, I told her I would try, then pretended I'd heard Harry calling me so that I could get off the phone. There wasn't anything she, or anyone, could do to make me feel better anymore. Harry and I had a romantic last evening together planned, but all I wanted was to climb into bed and sleep until morning, while the mood passed on its own.

Sitting in silence, I tried to wrap my head around what had happened - and was still happening - and I suspected if I reopened Instagram there would be fresh comments, more hateful emojis, more demands for everybody to sever ties with me. Anger started to bubble up at the sheer audacity and entitlement of people who claimed to love the man I did. Harry and those who were close to him had evidently become quite used to the whole thing, but it was all new to me and I couldn't imagine hating someone I didn't know so much that I would try to ruin their life. It was baffling.

"Lil? Are you still packing?"

Hearing Harry's voice brought me back to where I was, to what had caused strangers to hate me, to what my life was going to be for what I hoped was a long time. I wasn't upset with him, but there wasn't anything he could do to rescue the foul mood I'd descended into.

Strolling into the closet, his cheeks red as he cooled down, and sweat patches on his clothes, his smile faded when he saw the expression on my face. "What's wrong?"

"I lost a client. Your ' _fans'_ made me lose a client." I turned away to start shoving the neatly folded piles of clothes roughly in my open suitcase. "They've been bombarding our social media, and our clients, too."

For a moment, Harry didn't say or do anything but remained glued to his spot in the doorway to the closet. I couldn't look at him, I didn't want him to try and make it better because the damage was done, and I didn't want him to touch me.

Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, Lil."

Hearing him take a couple of steps in my direction, I put out an arm to stop him from getting closer, "Don't touch me. I need you to not touch me."

As we'd taken steps to get to know each other again, I had been honest and explained to Harry how my anxiety attacks manifested, including that I would sometimes hate anyone being too close to me. Terry and Rose, and even Joel, had learned quickly that the best way was to just sit with me in silence, or they would try to reassure me until I made moves for them to hug me. However, at that moment, Harry only saw my request as rejection, bringing up memories of other relationships which had ended because of overzealous fans spewing vitriol and threats.

"I... I warned you that it might-"

"I truly don't fucking understand how anyone could think that's an okay thing to do!" Forcefully closing my case and standing up, I turned to face Harry and saw he was stony-faced, with his arms folded across his chest. Hindsight, as I sat on the plane, told me he was protecting himself from the hurt he had come to expect when the abuse became too much for people in his life, but when I saw him looking so removed from my anxiety, I just thought he appeared unfeeling and uncaring. Anger began to fully override my upset, elbowing it out of the way and rushing to the surface in disbelief that Harry didn't seem to give a shit. "This is my livelihood, Harry, the way I earn money and pay my bills. I have built it from scratch, I have put my heart and soul into _my_ business, and if I lose that I don't have anything. How fucking dare they?! I'm sorry, but I've worked too hard for your so-called ' _fans_ ' to ruin it. I didn't sign up for this!"

Harry visibly flinched and looked away, lowering his head to glance down at his white running shoes, but I was too deep in my rage to reign in what I was saying. "Have any of your other clients said they're leaving?"

"Not yet! Thankfully. But Lord knows what I'll get back to when I get home, this could possibly be the first of many! I could get back to London and find we're losing clients by the hour and going under!" I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. "What do they think's going to happen? We'll break up? Is that their goal? Ruin my life so I don't want to be with you? Or so you don't want to be with me?"

What I'd said hit a nerve, and suddenly he snapped, his whole demeanour going from unreadable to furious and frustrated in a split-second.

"Yes! Layla, that's exactly what they want!" he replied, eyes wide and voice raised. "They don't want me to be with you, so they'll harass you, your company, and the people you work with until we break up, and then they'll - mostly - stop. But what I don't understand is why you're acting like you don't already know this, like I haven't been telling you what it can be like!"

"Because you didn't actually tell me they'd fuck with my business! I can just about deal with the stuff they're saying about me, I can take the name-calling and them thinking I'm in it for PR, or that I'm... your beard, but I didn't know this would affect my job."

"I'm sorry that it's worse than you expected, but I did warn you. I just assumed that you'd understand that it could mean every part of your life. Maybe I could have been clearer if our relationship hadn't been all over the papers before I got the chance."

"Which is my fault, right?" Vindicated in my suspicions that Harry was, at the very least, a little bit annoyed with me about the leak, I ignored how hurt I was by what he'd said. "Because it was only my friends there? I mean, Jeff wasn't there, was he? And he's always been my number one fan. It was also me who left the door open in a house full of fucking people!"

"Come off it, Layla, Jeff didn't do it and you fucking know it," he scoffed. "You just don't want to admit that your darling, precious ex-husband probably did it."

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. "Don't do that, don't bring your jealousy into this. If Will wanted to expose any part of my life, he would have done it a long time ago."

"That's when he had a conscience, Terry isn't around anymore to stop him from being a dickhead to you."

"Fuck you. Fuck Jeff. And fuck your fucking fans."

Harry bit into his bottom lip as if to stop himself from saying what he'd truly wanted to. He'd crossed a line by bringing up Terry, and he knew it.

Regaining control of his anger, his face once again became impassive and blank. "Whatever, I'm going for a shower. But at least you can go home tomorrow and fix what you really care about." Turning to leave the room, he'd muttered, "Without that, you have nothing, right?"

**-**

The rest of our last night together had been horrible and uncomfortable, with neither one of us making any moves to apologise or make things right. We ate what was meant to be a romantic dinner in silence, candles on the table unlit, plates only half-emptied, and a vague feeling of familiarity hanging in the air. Was this how it ended for Harry and me? Were those people who'd left nasty comments in the hope of breaking us up going to be successful? It was for a very different reason, but as we distanced ourselves from each other again, I couldn't help thinking of the last night we'd spent before splitting up. Except, that night, there had been some tenderness as I'd fallen asleep in his arms, this time it was nothing but coldness and the desire to be anywhere else.

Harry withdrew from me completely, and I was too angry and hurt to care. I cleared our plates, loaded everything into the dishwasher, then, when I came out of the kitchen and observed him on the phone, I went upstairs to bed. His apathy to why I was upset about his fans causing me to lose clients was baffling to me. I could understand that he was somewhat used to things like that happening, but surely he had to know that it was all new for me?

Laying in the dark, I cried and missed the comfort and safety of home. I missed Stan, I missed my friends, I missed London and my house, and I missed feeling like I had some control over my life. It all seemed so close yet so far, as though the following day when I'd be landing at Heathrow was an eternity away.

**-**

The following morning we said goodbye at the doorway as we waited for the car to take me to the airport, and there was sadness as we hugged and kissed. We had just spent our longest stretch of time together, and we should have been upset because it was coming to an end, and we were parting again, but instead it just seemed like we both couldn't wait for me to leave.

"Call me when you land, yeah?" Harry muttered into my ear as we hugged one last time. "Or text. Whatever you prefer."

Nodding, I blinked back tears. "I will."

Pulling away from him and stepping out of the house with my case, I bit my lip to stop myself from crying until I was in the back of the car. Robert, the same driver who'd picked me up when I'd arrived, greeted me warmly as he took my suitcase to put it in the boot.

Harry watched from the door, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Our relationship felt fractured, but not in the way it had ever done before. Neither one of us had made any attempt to fix the break before I'd left, and I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that once I got home and called him, we'd accept the inevitable and break up again - this time for good. We'd agreed on that before, this was our last chance.

**\---**

I cried as soon as the plane doors were closed, feeling like it was the final point of no return. It took everything not to wail and sob as we took off, leaving Harry behind, and possibly my relationship with him, too.

As The Beatles' song ' _Yes It Is_ ' faded into the Slade's ' _Everyday_ ', and I drank white wine straight from the tiny plastic bottle, a thought occurred to me which almost made me demand we went back to LAX. I had been so wrapped up in myself to realise it at the time, but Harry hadn't been apathetic to my concerns, he'd been protecting himself as he heard me rant about "not signing up for this", and various other concerns he'd probably heard before someone decided the relationship wasn't worth the hassle, and promptly removed themselves from it. He'd thought I was going to break up with him and cut him from my life completely, again. I'd already had vague, fleeting moments of awareness that he had some worry that I could banish him as I had before, but it stupidly hadn't even crossed my mind that me venting my frustration would bring all that up for him.

Pulling my hood up over my head, I covered my face and cried even harder as the guilt of having hurt Harry swallowed me whole. He hadn't deserved the way I spoke to him, or to be made to feel like I was blaming him. I recalled the look on his face as I'd told him not to touch me and felt terrible, frustrated to be trapped in a tin can flying further away from where I needed to be. He _had_ warned me what could happen with his fans, he'd warned me repeatedly, but I was so focused on trying to keep control of my life to realise that I needed to reassure him that I wasn't laying any of the blame on him.

With hours still to go until I landed and could talk to Harry properly, I had no choice but to take advantage of the Wi-Fi and wait until I got home.

**Layla**

_I'm sorry. I took my frustrations out on you, and I was wrong._

_Please forgive me? I love you._

Hitting send, I held onto my phone and fell asleep waiting for a reply that didn't come.

**\---**

**A.N: Sorry for falling behind on updates! I will be adding all the chapters I've missed over the week, and then I'll be back on schedule! - Van**


	22. Forgive Me

"You could have stayed longer, y'know?" Rose said cheerfully as we drove away from Heathrow, promptly hitting traffic on the tiny piece of hell that is the M25. I hadn't said more than two words since I'd gotten into the car, and I knew her statement was also a reference to the fact I had a face like a slapped arse.

"No. It was a good time for me to come home." I replied quietly, my eyes adjusting to so many shades of green, and the sky was a familiar, comforting sort of grey that I'd never imagined I'd ever miss. The day was as glum as I was.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Shaking my head, I checked my phone yet again, and sighed when I saw being in the land of 4G and my home network hadn't brought a reply from Harry. "Maybe later."

"If it's about not telling you we'd lo-"

"It's not that. Did we lose more?"

Rose scoffed, "Quite the opposite! Vicky told me she's added three meetings to meet with new clients just this morning alone. It was panic stations for a while, but you being Harry Styles' girlfriend doesn't seem to be doing us any harm."

That news should have made me feel better and eased the ball of anxiety I'd had sat in the pit of my stomach for the previous twenty-four hours, but it only made it all worse. I'd freaked out and caused an argument over what was essentially nothing! Rose and I had lost clients before, and I hadn't thought we were going to go under, then, so why did I throw my toys out of the pram this time? The relationship between Harry and I wasn't fragile, but it was still new, and our history made me fully aware that it could turn to shit easily. I just wished I'd been mindful of that as I'd ranted.

Sinking down into my seat, I blinked away tears as they sprang to my eyes, and mumbled, "Good. I'm glad. But I also don't want that to be the only reason they come to us."

"Oh, I know that, but do we want to turn people away because of it?"

"No, I guess not." I opened my mouth to say that from now on I'd make sure that Harry didn't come to the office, and that I'd make sure to keep my love life separate from work, but with the fight hanging over my head, his showing up might not even be a concern anymore, anyway. "Certainly not if we keep losing people."

"Well, I've arranged for flowers to be sent to the office of everyone who got flooded with shit as an apology, but everybody's been really understanding when we've called to give them advice." Rose shook her head and tutted. "Most of them are well aware that this can happen in the grand old age of social media."

"I'm really sorry you've all had to deal with this while I was away. Thank you, I'm so grateful."

She threw a glance at me before reaching across to pat my leg, reassuringly. "Listen, I'm not going to lie and say it hasn't been a fucking ball-ache to deal with. But honestly, Lil, don't even worry about it. I know that if it was the other way around you'd do the same for me. "

"In a heartbeat, but still, thank you." Forcing a smile, and pushing aside my misery, it hit me just how glad I was home and back with my best friend. She was right, I'd have moved heaven and earth to make sure she was okay if she was in the position I was in. "But I think Dee would have something to say if you were suddenly dating Harry and it was all over the news."

"Mate! We have a wedding to pay for! I'd do whatever it takes to get that money to pay for my girl's dream day," Rose grinned.

I laughed along with her and it felt good. I'd been trapped in a tin can of sadness, but Rose was gradually pulling me out, even if it was fleeting. As we moved on to chatting about all of the wedding plans she'd done while I was away, it felt reassuring to know that if Harry did decide to end our relationship like I was preparing for him to do, then I really would be okay after the initial heartbreak. It would hurt, but my world wouldn't end like it had before, and life would keep going.

I just really hoped it didn't come to that.

**-**

Despite my melancholy in the car, putting the keys in the lock of my front door and opening it made me feel wonderful. Rose had stopped there on the way to pick me up and made sure I had fresh milk and bread in the house, but most importantly, she had dropped off Stan.

"Moo moo?" I called, wheeling my case into the hall and dropping my bag to the floor.

Upstairs, I heard a soft thud of four paws hitting the floor, which was followed by several trill meows that got louder as my furry, four-legged child raced down the stairs to greet me. He did that by getting close enough for me to touch him, then proceeded to lick one of his front paws and pretend I wasn't there. I crouched down with a groan, my body aching from the plane and all of the sex I'd been having until Harry and I had fallen out, and stroked Stan's furry, rotund tum, while he purred loudly and stretched out.

After a moment of bliss from the human he tolerated the most, it suddenly all became too much for him to be so vulnerable, and he rolled over onto all fours and trotted off into the kitchen.

Rose giggled behind me, "Don't tell him, but I'm going to miss that little weirdo."

Following him, I busied myself by giving him some food, then made tea for Rose. California and Harry's home had been so dream-like that I felt like I'd just woken up from a long, vivid nap. The routine of doing mundane tasks such as feeding my cat and mentally making a note to get more sugar when I went food shopping, it was all so familiar that it was as though I hadn't been away at all, that I hadn't even left my house. But my kitchen seemed so tiny and closed in that I knew I had been away; there were no breathtaking views from my regular-sized windows - other than that of other people's gardens - and I'd sure give Mrs Ellis across the road one hell of a shock if I took to leaving my curtains open while I walked around the house naked. Los Angeles had been very real, but I was back to reality, back to normality.

"So," Rose said, making me realise I'd all but ignored her, "how was it? Are you red raw? Did you rub shoulders with lots of other famous people?"

I placed her mug down on the kitchen table in front of her, sat down opposite, and tried to muster some enthusiasm for a trip that had soured and no longer felt as wonderful. A couple of days before I'd been excited to bore everyone to tears about how incredible my holiday had been, to tell them about all of the things I'd seen and done, and about how in love I was with Harry, but now I could barely think of anything positive to say. All I could think about was the heartbreaking look on Harry's face as I'd ranted and raved.

"No, but I'm close, and some. It was... it was really nice," I said.

Pulling a face of derision, Rose didn't appear even remotely impressed by my failure of an answer. "Nice. Did you really just say it was... nice? Was it that bad?"

"No! No, it was really, really good, and all of Harry's friends were lovely and welcoming. The house was gorgeous, and I don't think you and I could ever go there together because we would just eat the entire time, but..."

"Harry?"

"Harry. Or rather, this time it was all me." Sighing, I hung my head, and stared down at the warped pattern of my place mat through the bottom of my glass of water, hoping that maybe it would provide some sort of solution. "We just had a bit of a disagreement last night about the online abuse, and now I feel terrible."

"How serious is it?"

Lifting my head, I saw the worry flit across my best friend's face, the kind I hadn't seen in quite some time. I knew her well enough to know she was questioning her part in Harry and I getting back together, and she was preparing herself for the worst. I couldn't exactly say I was certain that everything would be okay, but this was my problem to worry about, not hers, and I didn't want my friends panicking that I'd break down again every time Harry and I had a disagreement.

Hitting the break, I started to backpedal. "It's not great. But, I'm hoping that it seems worse because it was our last night, and then I had to leave and get on a plane."

"Are you sure?" she asked, dubiously, lifting her mug up to drink from it.

"Yeah, yeah, it'll be fine! I'm probably just jet-lagged. I'll probably speak to him later and he won't even know what I'm on about."

"Hmm, okay. Well, I'm sure it was nothing that can't be fixed."

I fixed a smile and nodded my head. "Exactly." Changing the subject, I asked, "So, how's Will doing? Have you seen him?"

Rose's eyes widened as she grimaced, thankfully all too glad to go along with a new topic. "He came to dinner the other night. Did he tell you about the puppy?"

"No?"

"Oh god! Lil, he completely forgot with everything that's been going on that he'd bought a puppy for Terry as an early wedding anniversary present. It's a friend of a friend of a friend, so they hadn't really known what happened, and they called him like, 'Hey! Still want this pup, 'cause he's going to be old enough to leave his mum soon?' and Will bloody said yes! So... Will... Will, your ex-husband who didn't even want goldfish in the house, is getting a puppy. A little Cavalier King Charles."

I was truly baffled, and for a moment genuinely forgot about the fight with Harry.

Will was getting a dog. Actually, not only was he getting a dog, but Will had planned to surprise Terry with said dog. I had nagged and dropped the most enormous hints to him that I'd wanted a pet during the entirety of our marriage, and he'd flat out refused every single time. I'd always wondered why, wondered if maybe he was phobic of dogs, or allergic to cats, but then I saw him with other people's animals, and he was perfectly fine.

Eventually, one day I'd asked Verity what she thought about us getting a pet, figuring that because she was a keen animal lover she might encourage it. Her reaction took me by surprise, and it was one of the few moments when she'd talked about her son like she was his mother; her normally stern expression had softened, and she'd looked so mournful as she told me about their family dog dying while Will was away at boarding school. It had broken his heart that he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye, and when Will Senior had mentioned that they were thinking of getting a new dog because the house didn't feel the same, the younger William had begged them not to.

After hearing that story, I'd let the subject die, knowing that it was obviously something that had affected him deeply. And I'd known that Terry had then tried to convince him when they'd gotten together, but I'd never expected him to succeed. It was another on a lengthy list that told me precisely how deeply Will loved Terry.

"I'm genuinely stunned. Does he have it yet?"

"No, he's getting her next week. He actually seems excited." Rose shrugged her shoulders as she took a quick gulp of tea. "Maybe this will be good for him. She's a connection to Terry, and he can focus on her instead of just rattling about in that big house by himself."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Lifting Stan up onto my lap, I kissed the top of his head and scratched his fuzzy little chin. "I'll try and go visit him at some point this week."

"Well, if you're up for it after getting some sleep, I was going to suggest that maybe we, Will included, come back around later? We can get Chinese, and you can tell us all about your new Hollywood life."

Yawning widely, I suddenly felt more tired than I ever had in my life. I did not know how Harry switched time zones so easily, I could barely tell what year it was. "Sure, that sounds good. I've missed everyone so much, but just be warned that I may fall asleep in my hot and sour soup."

**-**

Rose stayed for a little while longer, but left when I started to yawn at her more than talk. I was glad to see her, and I was looking forward to catching up with my friends, but I was also eager for my bed, cuddles with Stan, and catching up on reality shows, all whilst waiting for Harry to respond to my message. So far, as I climbed into bed, it was still radio silence, but I was too out of sorts to do more than just send another message telling him that I'd landed safely and was at home.

I'd fallen asleep five minutes into an episode of The Real Housewives of New York, curled up under a blanket with the cat stretched out against my leg. My own bed was bliss, but it felt empty after two weeks of sleeping in the same bed as Harry.

Loud ringing woke me up with a start, and I looked around the room in confusion that I wasn't in Harry's LA bedroom. Glancing at my phone, I picked it up and answered immediately when I saw his name and the picture we'd taken together on our hike light up the screen. A part of me had begun to wonder if maybe he didn't give a shit that I'd got home at all, so his call gave me some momentary relief, before remembering that it might also be a 'I'm sorry, but this isn't working out' call.

"Hi."

"Hey." Harry replied, quietly, not sounding particularly overjoyed to be speaking to me.

"Hi," I repeated, placing a hand on my tummy to grip at it as it swirled and twisted. Waiting for him to speak, after too many beats of agonising silence, I spoke again, "Harry, I'm so, so, _so,_ sorry. I was being a moody cow, and I really wasn't thinking about what I was saying. I didn't mean to say anything that would hurt or upset you. I'm sorry."

I hoped for a response, but other than him quietly clearing his throat, he remained silent. My heart raced, and my mind leapt from one worst case scenario to the other. I imagined him telling me we were over and the thought alone made my bottom lip wobble, and a distant - but familiar - ache of sadness started to creep into my chest. I knew that the pain wouldn't leave me the way it had before, but it made me so miserable that our break up was always so close to our thoughts. No matter how wonderful things were, when the slightest thing went wrong, it all came rushing back. As I had at the beginning of our reconciliation, I wondered if maybe the damage ran too deep, and we'd been fooling ourselves by thinking it was salvageable.

"Are we over?" Harry finally asked, his voice distant as if already resigned to the answer.

"No! Oh god, no! That's not what I want at all, it's the last thing I want. Baby, I wasn't angry with you, I was just... I was angry!" Rubbing my forehead to ease the tense throbbing in my temple, I whispered quietly enough that I hoped he didn't hear me, "Do you want to break up?"

"No, I don't want that either." I could hear some relief as he spoke, but it was well hidden by the barriers of defence he'd built back up around himself. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I'm obviously going to Italy to do that Gucci shoot, I'd still like it if you came after, like we planned. If you want to."

"I want to, I really do. But like I said before, I will have to check with Rose, because obviously the trip to America was kind of unexpected."

"Okay, well, if you can. Alessandro recommended some place that we can go and be alone. Maybe work out where we go from here."

We were saying all of the right things, but it all lacked the usual warmth. I wanted to cry, I wanted to ask what I could do to fix things and make it all better - just as I had done when I was first with Will and he got angry with me - but I had to remind myself that Harry wasn't Will. Harry was hurt, and he was upset. We had just had an argument, and I had to expect that things wouldn't go back to normal in an instant.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I said, "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am."

"I know. We'll talk properly when we see each other."

With that, and a quiet 'I love you', he hung up, leaving me feeling worse than before he'd called.


	23. Everyday

Despite jet lag leaving me completely thrown out, I was eager to distract myself with work. Rose had been right to tell me I had nothing to worry about when it came to the business - on my first day back after a couple of days of recovering from travelling, I saw for myself that we were busier than ever. It was nice to be back in the office; seeing the friendly faces of my team, and throwing myself into my work. It was a perfect distraction from the uncertainty of my personal life.

There were whispers, though, and questions almost visible on the tips of the tongues of people I'd known and worked with for a long time, people I'd had no problem sharing details about my relationship when I'd been with Joel. I'd approach someone's desk to ask them something, or when I passed by to go to the ladies, and I'd feel curious eyes on me. I'd hoped that maybe my being away would give my colleagues time to process all they had read, but me going to America had left a lot of questions unanswered. I was torn between wanting the usual open and friendly atmosphere we all usually had, and not wanting them to know anything. I couldn't ignore that Harry wasn't just any old boyfriend, and Jeff had made it clear to me that people were always wanting to gain something by being associated with Harry, but I would miss having candid chats about relationships with people I considered friends. Partly out of privacy, and partly out of not wanting them to know anything so that they couldn't say anything to anybody, - even by accident - I would have to keep conversations like those for the ones who I trusted implicitly.

"Rose said you wanted to see me?" Vicky appeared in the doorway of my office, her dark brown hair a freshly cut, perfect bob, and lips a deep shade of red. As I signalled for her to come in and close the door, she chuckled nervously, "I feel like I'm in trouble with the headmistress."

"Not at all! Don't be silly!" I replied, getting up to fetch the gift I had gotten to thank her for her support while I was away.

"Glad to be back?"

"You're joking, aren't you? This time last week I was waking up to beautiful sunshine and-"

"A beautiful young man," Vicky smirked, her perfectly shaped eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"Aha! Well, yes, that too." Blushing, I picked up the small, red gift bag that was sitting next to a much bigger one filled with sweets and treats for the team, I extended it towards her. "For you. A little thank you to say how much I really appreciate you helping Rose out so much while I was away. Harry helped me pick it out, so if you don't like it, it's all his fault."

Accepting the bag, she did a little happy dance, then quickly hugged me. "Layla! This is so sweet! You really didn't have to do this, all I did was do what I'm paid to do."

"No, you helped way beyond your job role, and I'm so grateful." Watching Vicky pull the fIat, square box before lifting the lid to reveal a bracelet with a rose gold V-shaped charm, I was relieved when it was met with a smile. "I feel very fortunate to have such a wonderful team around me."

"It's beautiful, Lil, thank you," she said, hugging me again before asking if I'd put it on for her. "And pass on my thanks to Harry, too."

I forced a smile and nodded, far too aware of the fact that I hadn't spoken to him since our conversation after I arrived home. But as was the case with Rose, Vicky didn't need to know that.

"I will do! I have some goodies for the staff room, too. To say thanks to everyone for their hard work. I'm also hoping that a giant bag of sweets and chocolate will distract them from the chaos it's been." We both sat down, and I found myself saying, "Remind them that I'm still the same person, and that nothing's really changed."

Vicky was silent for a moment, glancing down at her bracelet as her fingers played with the delicate charm. Looking up, she finally replied, "They're just... curious. Some of them, myself included, have been here since the beginning, and we know you so well. You're suddenly dating one of the most famous men in the world and it's a bit of a shock to us all. And that girl? I joked that she looked like your sister!"

"Logically, I know that you're right, and I know there's no harm meant by it. But it is awkward having everyone know every detail of a life I tried to keep private." Biting my bottom lip, I avoided discussing Bianca. "It's been a bit of a rough couple of weeks, and it's difficult to know who's on my side."

"We're all on your side, remember that. We love you, we're a family as well as workmates, " Vicky smiled warmly, she then pointed to her bracelet and the hefty bag full of candy, and laughed, "especially when we're bribed with jewellery and chocolate!"

"I'll bear that in mind." I joined in with her laughter, already feeling much better, and far more reassured that I really did have genuine support from the people I worked with.

"Thank you for the bracelet, it's gorgeous." Patting her wrist, she seemed serious as she stood up to leave. "I'm here to help in any way I can, we all are. I'll let you know when our new client gets here."

I smiled a thank you - the feeling of gratitude making me far too emotional to speak out loud - and watched as she left the room, closing the door behind her. Paranoia had crept in, and I'd doubted those I worked with, those who'd helped get the business to where it was, and where it was going. It still stood that I was not going to be sitting around talking about what Harry and I got up to like the rest of the girls in the staff room talking about their boyfriends, but I wasn't going to pretend he didn't exist either. I'd said it myself, nothing had changed, I was still the same person, and so were they. I just hoped that Vicky was right when she said that the people I worked with were trustworthy, because I dreaded finding out that more and more of my life was being written about.

**\---**

Even though we talked most days, things with Harry still felt very off. I'd look forward to hearing his voice, then as soon as we were on the phone, I wanted it to be over. Our calls were no longer filled with wishes to be together, expressing how much we loved each other, or whispered words of desire which resulted in long distance naughtiness. All there was was polite chit chat, and it was torturous, feeling like we were barely clinging to a sinking ship. Our calls were quick and frosty, and merely an exercise of checking in to kill time until we could get in a room together.

However, I wanted to do whatever I could do to prove to Harry that I meant what I'd said about being nowhere near ready to throw in the towel. The best way of starting to do that, that I could come up with, was to arrange a long overdue meeting with his sister, Gemma.

We arranged to meet in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, somewhere quiet, where we wouldn't be disturbed. She was already there when I arrived, sipping at some green tea whilst casting a casual eye over the menu. Seeing her made me nervous, it had been a while since we'd encountered each other, having only been at the same events a handful of times since our conversation about Harry a few years before. He'd said she had no problems with me, and was all for a fresh start like everyone else, but if she knew him and I were fighting, maybe she'd be doubtful again.

Aiming to stay positive, and wanting to prove to everyone that Harry and I would work out, I stood up straight and cheerfully approached the table.

"Hello," I smiled, causing Gemma to look up. Dark hair, brown eyes, and fair skinned, with a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, I had to search closely for a resemblance of her brother, but I could see how she looked like Anne. The Styles siblings had been truly blessed in the aesthetics department. "I thought it was me who was going to be the early one."

She returned my smile, and stood up so that we could exchange a quick - but warm - hug.

As we both took our seats, I pulled my phone out of my handbag and put it on silent so we _really_ wouldn't be disturbed.

"I left a little early thinking the journey would be much longer, but I haven't been here for too long, though." Her whole demeanour was so different to the previous two times we had spoken; softer, and more open. Maybe even a little bit nervous, too.

A waiter appeared and I ordered a small coffee and some water, Gemma ordered some food. I considered if I wanted to eat, but I hadn't really been able to stomach eating much with all of the anxiety that was swirling around in my stomach, so I passed.

"Thank you for coming to meet me," I said, once we were alone again. "What's the line from _'Almost Famous'_? We do live in the same city."

Chuckling, she nodded, "I'm glad you called. I know it's a shock to the system having your whole life suddenly become common knowledge."

"You can say that again. I'm slowly getting used to it." With a grimace, I added, "Sort of."

"I've never really gotten used to it, but-" Gemma shrugged her shoulders- "what can we do? So, how did you find L.A.? I heard the last show was wild."

Everyone was asking how the trip was, and I was still struggling to force enthusiasm for something which had a dark cloud over it. I couldn't say how I really felt; Los Angeles was incredible, but my relationship was not. "It was... good. The show was insane, lots of fun, and Harry loved it-"

"Of course."

"Naturally, and yeah, it was nice to get out of London and meet more of Harry's friends."

We paused the conversation as our food and drink arrived, and I almost changed my mind again about eating, but decided against it, even if Gemma's avocado toast did look delicious.

Sitting with Harry's flesh and blood seemed to make our fight weigh heavier on my mind, and try as I might I just couldn't muster up the energy to fully pretend that everything was okay; that my time in L.A. hadn't ended sourly, and that he and I were barely talking. But I couldn't express that to Gemma, of all people. It had taken some serious coaxing from Rose and Dee for me to finally tell them what had really gone down, and even then I'd refrained from telling them precisely how petrified I was of losing Harry.

It was stupid, but I truly felt like they were expecting something to go wrong, expecting that he and I would eventually fail. Logically I knew that that was unlikely to be true, but pride was telling me otherwise.

Taking a bite of food, Gemma chewed as she seemed to ponder something. After swallowing, she asked, "Did you tell Harry you were meeting me?"

I shook my head, avoiding her eye. I hadn't told him because we hadn't spoken since I'd invited her to lunch. "No, we're... Things..."

"Have you two had a falling out?" The question wasn't unkind, and when I looked at her she was almost sympathetic.

With the heaviest sigh, I admitted, "Yeah. I fucked up."

"How?"

"I overreacted, like a total idiot. Some people, I don't want to use the term fans, started harassing my company's social media, and then started harassing my clients, too. Telling them not to work with me, that sort of rubbish, and then I found out we'd lost a client."

"Oh shit," Gemma grimaced. She did not appear surprised, however.

"Yeah, they didn't want that nonsense to besmirch their good name, so they terminated our contract." Putting a hand to my temple, I felt sick as the hurt look on Harry's face popped up in my mind's eye. "I was angry, and I didn't think about what I was saying while I ranted and raved. He took my venting to heart, and took everything to mean that I was going to call time on us, then we ended up arguing about that bloody article. I've apologised, but... but it's a bit of a mess. I guess he still thinks I don't want to be with him anymore, and that I just want this to all go away."

"And, do you? Most of them will get bored eventually, but some won't, and you might have to deal with this for a long time."

"Oh I don't give a shit! It's vile, it's disgusting, it's even slightly terrifying. Rose tried to hide it, but I even had death threats sent to the office. It makes me physically sick when I read those things they said about me and my life, but the judgement of strangers isn't going to scare me off." Smiling, I realised I'd been far more honest than I'd intended. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "The thing that had scared me before about being with Harry was everyone finding out my secrets. My skeletons are all out of the closet now, there's really not much else they can use against me."

Gemma gave me a doubtful look, one that was fully experienced with how Harry's so-called fans could be. "You'd be surprised, Layla. They're like a dog with a bone. I know some of his exes from years ago who're still getting shit."

Worried I'd sounded cocky, I hastened to clarify, "I know I've barely touched the surface of what they're like, or how this way of life will affect my world, but I..." I tried to find the words to explain what I meant or how I felt. Everything sounded phoney, or like I thought I was untouchable. I decided to tell her the truth. "I'm scared, I'm freaked out, and I don't know who to trust. Harry's barely talking to me, and my friends are trying desperately to protect me, so I don't want to make them even more worried. Yet, despite all of that and how easy it would be to simply not deal with it, I did that before, and _that_ was far worse than this. I love Harry, and that's far more important to me than any of the shit being sent to my home or where I work."

I had taken myself aback with how honest I'd been, more honest than I'd been with my friends for the exact reason I'd explained. But I needed to hear those things, myself. I needed to hear myself admit that I was terrified but nowhere near enough to throw in the towel.

Gemma was quiet as she considered my words. Sipping her tea, she then said, "Harry'll come 'round, he just needs to sulk a little. And, I know we didn't get off to a great start, but you're more than welcome to call me if it gets too much and you don't want to worry him or your friends. I'll never fully know what he goes through, and your friends will never fully know or understand what you and I go through as someone recognisably linked with him."

Once again I wanted to cry. Her understanding touched me, as it had when we'd bumped into each other when Harry and I weren't talking. She'd come over all guns blazing, but had been willing to listen and understand my side.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that."

As if reading my mind, she took the opportunity to bring up that night. "Also, I want to say that I hope you don't think I was trying to be a bitch when I told you Harry was happy, when we spoke that time. I thought it would help you both." Looking slightly guilty, she added: "I should _also_ add that Mum and I were a little harder on you because Harry had... Well, let's say he hadn't been entirely honest with us about his behaviour."

It didn't surprise me one bit that Harry had kept things from them, he'd confessed that to me when we'd talked. He'd also then explained that when he'd decided that he wanted to try to see me again, he'd told Anne and Gemma everything, even all of the parts he had played in pursuing me, and the things he had done wrong.

"Oh, I see. That's okay, I don't blame either of you for being protective of him." I took a drink of coffee, then shook my head. "But, no, I never took it that way. Even when I found out it wasn't exactly the truth, I understood why you did it. I mean, it did help me, and it helped him for a little bit, too, right?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Exactly."

She had helped me. I'd been racked with guilt since kicking Harry out of my kitchen and refusing to even acknowledge him afterwards. Long after he'd stopped showing up outside, I'd wake up thinking he was banging on my door begging to come in. His pleas and desperation, and the broken look on his face as he'd drunkenly stumbled into the back of Terry's car, had haunted me to the point where I'd almost caved and called him a couple of times when I'd woken up in the middle of the night. The ache in my chest I felt from missing him had been unbearable. Bumping into Gemma, and hearing her tell me that he was doing okay, had put that final barrier down so that I could move on and start living my life fully again.

I'd even taken the digs about Kendall because at least he was moving on, too. He's on a yacht in St. Bart's shagging a supermodel of his own age? Wonderful! Good for him! Merry fucking Christmas! It had stung getting mental images of the two of them having sex and looking stunning, but I'd squashed the pain quickly.

If I'd known Harry was unhappy, then I wouldn't have allowed myself any happiness - I'd hurt him, so I didn't feel worthy of being happy. And if he'd known I was unhappy, then there would have been a good chance he'd have come back to London and turned up on my doorstep. I would have been weak enough to let him in.

Scoffing, I muttered, "I was about to say that neither one of us had been ready to get back together back then, but maybe we aren't now either."

"Like I said, he'll come around. You just need to give him some time to lick his wounds."

"Y'know, never ever did I think you'd give me advice about my relationship with your brother," I grinned, raising my cup to take another sip of coffee before it got too cold.

Gemma looked baffled as she laughed. "Me either! But he's my brother, and you both obviously love each other a lot, so I want this to work. Maybe I should speak to him? Tell him to put his toys back in the pram."

"Thank you, but this is my cock-up and I think I need to be the one to fix it."


	24. Silver Lining

Boiling. Britain was in a heatwave, and London was boiling.

Armed with my trusty wedding planning folder, Polaroid camera, and a handheld fan, I drove to meet Rose, Dee - and their mothers and sisters - in a bridal store in Queens Park. Going against tradition, the two women had decided they wanted their dresses to complement each other over keeping them a secret. They'd thrown the idea of me being the decider of whether the bridal gowns would go together, and as a wedding planner and Rose's Maid of Honour I would go to both fittings after all, but I didn't want that type of pressure. So, just like their hen party, they chose to simply do it together.

I had the air-conditioning on high in the car, and I was wearing the lightest, skimpiest, cotton summer dress I could get away with during the day time, but still, the back of my knees were moistened with sweat as I sat in traffic. It was too hot, and as much as I loved my friends, I was not in the mood to watch them loved-up and trying on 800 dresses. Rose wouldn't be too bad, but Dee was the worst when we were getting ready for nights out for tearing apart her wardrobe in search of something to wear, before going back to the first outfit she'd tried on. I dreaded to think what she would be like about probably the most important dress a woman will ever wear!

**Rose**

_Are you close?_

**Layla**

_Five mins. Traffic. My knees are sweating._

**Rose**

_K. We'll wait x_

_I have wet wipes! And it's not much cooler in here_

Truth was, I was feeling bitter. Harry and I were still in an awkward place where we talked almost nightly but said nothing. Before L.A. I was almost looking forward to going to bridal showrooms so that I could look at dresses with the thought that maybe I'd be shopping for my own one day in the near future. (I wasn't getting ahead of myself, I was simply excited to be... excited.) But that was gone, and despite all of the sunshine, I couldn't help but feel gloomy.

Finding a parking space, I raced up the quiet road to the Charlie Brear showroom, located in an old, restored, coach house.

"Oh, here she is!" Dee announced when I walked in, Peach Bellini in her hand.

"Sorry, sorry! I knew I should have left earlier," I replied, apologetically, kissing her and Rose on the cheek before going to say hello to everyone else. I made my way around the room of women as they browsed through the gold racks of dresses, then headed for the woman who I knew would give me comfort and perspective.

Carol met me halfway, coming to greet me like I was one of her own. "Hello, my darlin', how are you?" she asked, hugging me quickly. Stepping back, she lovingly stroked my loosely curled hair and frowned. "You look miserable. Still having issues with your fella?"

Bloody Rose! I would have been touched that the lack of secrets between us all made me feel like a real part of the family if I wasn't so annoyed she'd gone blabbering to her mother - who was already doubtful about Harry and I getting back together.

"Remind me never to tell your daughter anything ever again." Grumbling, I flashed a glance at Rose as she disappeared off to try on her first dress. Luckily for her, my annoyance was going to disappear the moment she reemerged. I turned back to her mother and sighed, "I'm fine, I'm more hot and bothered than anything-"

"But...?"

"But, yeah, we're still having issues."

I'd been trying to put on a brave face about the whole thing, and I had felt optimistic after speaking with Gemma, but in actuality, the whole thing was sitting like a medicine ball in my chest. Every moment that wasn't filled with work, or the wedding, or some sort of distraction, would be filled with thoughts of regret, and of how on earth I could fix what I'd possibly broken. I was not in the mood for dresses or flowers or table arrangements, but I was glad to have something else to occupy my time. I was glad to help my friends have the special day I was slowly beginning to think I would never get.

"It'll be okay, Lil, I promise you. I can just feel it." Carol squeezed my shoulder in place of hugging me again. I needed the hug, and she probably wanted to give it, but even with the four fans blowing in the corners of the showroom, it was far too hot for human contact. "He could be with anyone, Layla, and he went to all that bother of winning you back, why would he throw it away because you were - rightfully - annoyed? He's hurt, and you said things you probably shouldn't have, but you were well within your right to be angry."

"Why does everyone keep telling me _'he could have anyone'_?" I fumed before I could stop myself. "He didn't want _'anyone'_ , he wanted me. And I fucking made him work for it, too! It seems like everyone looks at us and thinks I should be grateful that the great and famous _Harry Styles_ has deemed me worthy of being in his life!"

"Layla, I don't think that, at all," she replied sadly, looking a little hurt.

I felt better for having vented, but also terrible for snapping at someone I loved so much, and who didn't deserve it. Exhaling loudly, I closed my eyes, and let my shoulders sag as I sighed, "I know. I'm sorry, I'm just stressed. I shouldn't have snapped."

"Oh, you know I'm not bothered about that! I deal with Iris, daily. But I'd hate it if you thought that that's what I meant. All I mean is, he's clearly besotted with you - from everything I've heard - so he'd be a bit of an idiot to end it over something so stupid like a bit of miscommunication." Carol laughed as she buckled and gave me a quick, but much-needed, hug, "Me and my Alf spent most of our married lives miscommunicating!"

I joined in with her laughter, but before I got the chance to respond, we were all called to the navy blue velvet seats to see Rose's first dress.

Dee's knee bounced as she sat between her mum, Blossom, and younger sister, Honour. She held their hands tightly and had an expression on her face that said she'd just been hit with the reality that she was planning her own wedding. Rose was the first to try on, but she would be next.

Just like I'd expected, the sight of Rose as she emerged from the soft pink dressing room in her first dress, made me forget that I was irritated about her big mouth. In fact, the moment she stepped up onto the low, round plinth so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror, I burst into tears along with everyone else and completely forgot all of the reasons why I hadn't wanted to come. She looked stunning. Her long, red hair cascaded down her back, sitting perfectly in the low deep-V of the dress. The loose sleeves were long and lacy, and embroidered with white flowers that almost looked like snowflakes (which was perfect for what would be a winter wedding). One of the girls who had helped her get dressed appeared, and carefully placed an elbow-length veil on her head, and suddenly Rose viewed herself in the reflection as a real bride. This wasn't merely an idea, anymore.

Tears brimming her blue eyes, a hand going to her heart as she turned around for us to see her properly. She looked at all of us, then settled on Dee, "What do you think?"

"Angel, you look breathtaking," Dee replied, accepting a tissue from the packet I'd brought along especially. She looked up at her future wife like she held the answers to all of the universe.

"Do you like it, darling?" Carol asked, sniffing and wiping tears from her eyes. "We all think you look beautiful, but do you like it?"

Smoothing her trembling hands down over her stomach, she turned back to the mirror. "I like the sleeves, but I don't really feel like... me in it."

"That's a good thing, Ro!" Iris laughed, before getting a slap on the arm from Carol. "Ow! Mum!"

Blossom was already pretty used to ignoring Iris, and softly said to her future daughter-in-law, "You'll know it's the right dress when you put it on, Rose, and you shouldn't get the first one you try, anyway. Go put another one on."

With a chorus of agreement from her audience, the bride-to-be stepped down off the podium to go and try on a second dress, while we all went back to browsing the racks. There was still the matter of bridesmaid dresses, but that would be left for another day when it wasn't so humid, and Dee's older sister, Mariah, wasn't so heavily pregnant. There were five of us in total, all with different tastes, and of varying sizes and skin tones - trying to find something that we all agreed on was going to be quite the task!

Rose hated the second and third dresses, and after getting hot and flustered, she took a break so Dee could try hers on.

"What if I hate everything?" Rose muttered, coming to sit with me and Violet. They looked identical, Iris too; their red hair, pale skin and freckles, with bright blue eyes that were beautifully striking. If Rose was scary on her own, she was terrifying with her sisters. "I just know Dee's going to come out and look beautiful in her first dress and it'll be the perfect one for her."

"You looked beautiful in all of yours." I tried to sound encouraging but was met with a withering look of disgust.

"I looked like a sack of shit, Lil."

Scoffing, I glanced at Violet, who rolled her eyes. "Okay, mate, if you say so."

"Layla's right, you looked amazing, you just didn't look like you. I highly doubt Dee's going to get it right on the first go!"

Violet was wrong - Dee nailed it the first go. She walked into the showroom in a floor-length skirt that had tassels from the waist down, worn with a simple white silk camisole on top. Over it, she wore a white jacket that was cut and constructed to look like a leather jacket but less bulky. Pushing the sleeves up to her elbows, it was perfectly Dee.

"I love it!" she beamed, twisting her hips in the mirror so that the white tassels swung out and moved with her movements. Coming to a stop and turning to face us all as once again, we all dabbed at our tears, she looked at Rose. "Is it okay?"

Rose was speechless. Her expression resembled the one Dee had had earlier, and she looked ready to drop to her knees and give the woman she loved everything she had. The most beautiful thing to witness was not the trying on of dresses, - which was lovely and all - but the getting to observe the way they looked at each other with love and adoration, and like their whole reason for living was stood before them. There was none of their usual bickering, Rose wasn't ranting about something while Dee looked on with amusement (sometimes with exasperation, too), no teasing and pretending they were annoyed and fed up with each other - none of that. They wore their love for each other openly, eager for the day they could say the other was their wife.

Finally, Rose managed to form words as she gazed at Dee with unabashed wonderment, clearing her throat and saying, "Dionne Barry, you look absolutely perfect."

**\---**

"First go, eh?" Will asked, as he opened up the boot of his car and picked up Cariad the Cavalier King Charles so that he could attach her lead to her collar. Placing her down onto the concrete car park, the long-haired brown and white beauty instantly went to make a dash for the huge muddy puddle nearby, but Will simply lightly tugged her back and continued, "I thought Dee would be the one who would take forever to find her dress."

"That's what I thought, too," I replied, bending down the stroke Cariad behind the ears, falling in love again as she sat down and looked up at me with big, round eyes. William was completely under her spell and I didn't blame him.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine a time when I would be going on a dog-walk with William Daniels-French. But here we were, with a gorgeous puppy at the helm, Will's pockets stuffed with biodegradable bags, on a walk on Hampstead Heath.

Cariad - the Welsh word for love, and a term of endearment frequently used by Terry - had brought a renewed spring in Will's step. He had something to get out of bed for in the morning, a reason to not just drink and wallow in grief, which - he'd candidly told me - had begun to look tempting for a little while. Even the business had stopped holding any joy for him! He'd joined because of his father, and because it gave him an excuse to spend time with Terry every day. Then, when his father died he took over, it meant he could conduct his affair without arousing my suspicions; but with both his father and Terry gone, their ghosts haunting every inch of that building, it had become a place he dreaded going to. Getting the puppy had reminded him that there was still plenty of love and joy in the world, that he loved his job, that he loved what he got out of going to work. It also helped he had taken to taking her with him.

The rain we'd had that morning had cooled the city down considerably, bringing with it a breeze that made me glad I'd chosen jeans and a shirt Harry had left at mine over wearing a dress. It was the perfect day for walking, and the earth smelled alive as it celebrated having been drenched after so much heat and dryness. Meandering around the part of the Heath Will liked to walk (despite living near Holland Park, which he said was for quick walks only), I couldn't help but be aware that I was close to Harry's home. Thankfully, however, my thoughts about him and our fight were interrupted before I could sink into them.

Pausing our steps so that Cariad could pee against a tree, Will asked, "Did Rose find a dress in the end?"

"Yes, thank God! She was about to give up, picked a dress in a huff, and came back out like she was floating on air. It doesn't take a lot for either of them to be fair, but they're going to look absolutely stunning." As we set off again, I hooked my arm with his, pushing back concerns over what Harry would think if he knew that not only was I with my ex-husband, but being tactile with him, too. Not that I was doing anything wrong, and not like I wasn't going to tell him when I saw him the following day, but Harry had shown his jealousy card when we'd fought, and it was making me question any interaction I had with Will. "Have you heard anything more about the wake? Like, who took that photo?"

Will ruefully shook his head. "If I knew anything, Lil, I would tell you. Mia said she doesn't have a clue, Joel said the same. Actually, Joel's coming to see me later so maybe he's heard something. But other than that, everyone's saying the same thing: they didn't see anything, they didn't go upstairs, and _'The Sun'_ isn't worth picking up dog shit with."

"Mia definitely doesn't know anything?"

"Nope! Her point was that if she hated you enough to do that, then she'd have done it long before now. I hasten to add that Mia doesn't hate you at all, despite what you think."

"I didn't think she did after we spoke at the wake, but can you blame me for doubting everyone after what I've been through in the past month?"

"No, I guess not. But Mia wouldn't do that, Lil. It was her father's wake."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." With a disgruntled hum and a frown, I felt thoroughly frustrated.

Someone had to have done it! It didn't just magically appear!?

Or, maybe, it was the one person I hadn't spoken to properly to ask, the one person who everything was starting to point towards. But I didn't want to believe that, so I chose to stick with that view that someone was lying to me or Will.

**-**

We strolled around with Cariad until she sat down and refused to move any further. Will called her a stubborn madam, but still promptly picked her up and carried her the entire way back to the car. I'd always thought he was soft for Terry, but this was a whole other level!

Driving back to his with the puppy fast asleep in her crate in the boot, as we pulled up outside Will's house, I saw a car I instantly recognised.

"Oh. Joel's here," I muttered, trying not to sound like I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than talk to him.

With him having said some pretty shitty things about Harry the last two times we'd spoken, and the fact that Harry and I were still not really on speaking terms, I was in no mood for any more sly digs at my relationship. Especially as it was a possibility that _he_ had been the one responsible for bringing mine and Harry's dirty laundry to the public's attention.

"Be nice, Layla."

Grumbling, "I'm always nice," as I got out of the car, I opened the door to boot, and picked up Cariad out of her crate. As if to thank me, and to reassure me that everything would be okay, she sniffed at my face then licked it - Stan was going to be furious when I got home. Slightly disgusted by the dog drool on my face, I quickly wiped my cheek, "Thanks, puppy. That's really lovely."

"Where've you two been, then, eh?" Joel smiled, getting out of his car and crossing the road to join us on the pavement outside of Will's house. "She gets bigger every time I see her."

"We just took the dog for a walk in Hampstead, on the Heath, but Madame got tired and wanted to come home." Will nudged my elbow as he added with an amused chortle, "And so did the puppy!"

"Ha. Ha. You are hilarious," I said, with a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head. Handing Cariad over to him, I then awkwardly glanced at Joel, and decided I needed to leave. "Anyway, I better get home and finish packing. Nice to see you, Joel. William, I'll call you when I get back."

Will said farewell, and I heard the sound of metal grating from him opening his front gate as I turned away to go to my car. A moment later, Joel called my name so that I stopped and turned back.

"Lilly, I'm-"

"I have somewhere I need to be, Joel." I felt uncomfortable hearing him call me Lilly; it was too intimate, too personal.

"I know. I just want to say that I'm sorry for the things I said to you at the wake, the things about Harry, I was out of line. It was just hard to see you two together." He seemed genuine as he spoke; shamefaced for implying that Harry would move onto Bianca because she was younger than I was. "I'm sorry."

Nodding, and before I could stop myself, I asked, "So you'll understand why I have to ask if you went to the newspapers? Are you apologising because you're sorry, or because you cocked-up and I'll find out eventually?"

Joel went to speak - annoyance written on his face - but then he scoffed and held up his hand. "I guess I brought that on myself, didn't I?" He became serious again when I didn't relent in my coldness. Looking me deep in the eye, he said with absolute sincerity, "It hurts that you think I could do that to you, Layla, but no, I didn't take those photos or speak to anyone. I promise you."

I wanted to believe him, in the same way that I wanted to believe Will. It was difficult to imagine that someone I'd confided in, who I had been intimate with, would betray me in such a hurtful, public way. But for every person who looked me in the eye and told me they hadn't done it, the more I accepted the idea that someone I loved _had_ been capable of publicly stabbing me in the back.

"I don't know who to trust," I admitted. The confusion, and the realisation that Joel, Will, Mia, or anyone else, could easily lie to my face, made me feel so unbelievably exhausted. "I hope that you didn't do it, but someone did. And, until I find out who, I can't believe a single thing anyone says to me. Even Will."

Expecting Joel to be offended, he threw me off by agreeing. "Good. Is Harry trying to find out, too?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, okay. Then please just make sure you keep your cards close to your chest, Lilly, yeah?"

He waited for me to nod that I would, then with a gentle touch on my shoulder, he turned to go back to Will's.


	25. Oh! Darling

As we drove through the Umbrian countryside, dark, grey clouds loomed overhead, and heavy rain pelted the roof and windows of the car. I couldn't help but feel that the weather was perfectly matched to the bleak and gloomy mood between Harry and I. We had barely said a word to each other the whole way, and although a million thoughts raced through my head, I couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make the uncomfortable atmosphere go away.

**-**

Arriving at the Reschio estate, the sky had started to get dark, and the rain seemed to beat down harder than ever. I waited in the car while Harry went into the main building to collect the keys to our private building. I'd been about to ask if he wanted me to come with him, but he'd pushed open the car door and got out, slamming it shut behind him before I could say anything. Ice cold, Styles. Ice. Cold.

The lights were on in the stone villa which was going to be our home for the week, and I barely had the chance to take in our surroundings as we raced to the front door with our belongings.

Safe inside from the rain, it seemed to hit us both that we were entirely alone. I normally loved any alone time I had with him, but this was not how I'd pictured things being when he'd proposed a whole week away, with nobody else around, just him and I. Could we spend a whole week like this? Barely acknowledging each other's presence, and killing time until we left? I hated the thought of that, and I already missed home. However, as much as I wanted to grab my things and head to the nearest airport, I wanted to stay and fix things more.

In the living room, Harry went to take my suitcase and I almost refused to hand it over - a brave part of me wanting to force him to talk to me - but the look of resistance in his eye stopped me from saying anything. Instead, I released my grip on the handle and let him take it. Setting it down next to his case, he was then on the phone instantly, muttering quietly to whomever he had called as he disappeared into a room and closed the door behind him. Was he on the phone to Anne telling her she'd been right all along? Or maybe calling Jeff to tell him he needed to action whatever fake emergency I was sure he'd put in place, which meant that he suddenly needed to leave.

This was not good, this wasn't like any other argument we'd had where he quickly moved on, or I was the one who had been wronged. I waited to see if his call was quick, and went to get a glass of water from the kitchen. On the wood-topped island, there was a fresh bouquet of brightly coloured wildflowers, a basket filled with local produce that was produced and grown on the estate, and an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. I read the note which welcomed us to the estate, and told us that they would be delighted to help should we need anything. Bitterly, as I dropped the note on the counter to go find a glass, I doubted there was anything they could do to help my shitty situation.

When I went back into the living room I saw our cases and bags still in the same place, and there was no sign of Harry. Grabbing my case, I headed upstairs to the master bedroom, which was located on the top floor.

The room - like the rest of the house - was stunning. The roof had exposed beams, and there was a window opposite the black, four-poster bed. I cupped a hand over the glass to try and peer out, but it had gotten too dark to see more than a few twinkling lights in the distance, distorted by raindrops hammering the window pane.

Setting my bag on the cream and black decorative travel trunk at the bottom of the bed, I sat next to it and searched for my phone. I quickly deleted the usual messages about call rates for the country I was in and sent a message to Rose to let her know I'd arrived. She was quick to respond.

**Rose**

_So, how's it going with the boy? Kissed and made up yet?_

**Layla**

_A big old NO on that one. I'm getting a touch of my own medicine and being dealt a heavy dose of silent treatment. Think I've really fucked it up._

**Rose**

_Don't be silly! Just explain to him what you meant and apologise._

_You'll be fine. He's crazy about you, and I don't think he'd throw all you've done to get where you are away over a mistake._

_You've forgiven him for worse._

**Layla**

_I hope y-_

The bedroom door opened and I stopped typing. Harry's eyes met mine, and for the first time, I truly saw the hurt my words had caused him. Or rather, the hurt my words had reawoken. I went to speak, to try and apologise, but nothing came out. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn't know how to say it. Breaking eye contact before I could force a few words out, Harry dropped his gaze as he put his things down on the floor and ran a hand over his damp hair.

"I'm going for a shower," he muttered, striding past me with a wide berth.

He couldn't even stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes, how were we meant to last a whole week in a villa with nobody else around, and nowhere to escape to? I'd been worried about L.A. and the fact that we would have nowhere to retreat to if we argued, and it seemed like it was going to be the same in Umbria. I wondered if this was the final sign of many that Harry and I simply weren't meant to be together. We'd tried so many times, and there had to come a point when we said enough was enough. We loved each other, but something kept getting in our way. We were fine in London, but everywhere else? It had been terrible.

Feeling tears pricking at my eyes and beginning to well, I allowed myself to picture my life without Harry again. I had a fantastic life! I had a job that I adored, friends who were better than family, Bianca and Finn were hopefully going to be a big part of my future, and I had my house and Stan. If I decided to step away from Harry, my life would go on and I would be okay, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But I didn't want that. I didn't want to give up. Everything would be fine, but that was just it: it would merely be fine. Being with him made everything seem that more wonderful and exciting, we had so much fun together, he made me laugh, and we had so much in common, or enjoyed learning about each other's differences. And the sex? That had always been great, but the connection we shared during sex since we'd reconciled? That was something else. It sounds so cheesy, but I felt like he could see my very soul when we were physically connected. I didn't want to walk away from that, and I wouldn't ever want to walk away unless it was a bloody good reason, I just had to get Harry to understand that.

I could not lose him again, not like this.

When I heard the sound of running water stop, I got up off the trunk and went to wait near the door for Harry to come out. I considered exactly what I wanted to say, rehearsing the words over and over until I glimpsed the door handle move and Harry appeared with a towel around his waist.

Seeing me, he jolted back, raising a hand to his chest as shock turned to irritation. "Jesus, Lil! What a-"

"I'm sorry, Harry, okay? I'm real-"

"Do we have to do this now? I'm knackered, I just want to..."

"What? Sit in silence and pretend like I'm not here?" He didn't respond, but looked at me defiantly, hating that I was right. I took a step closer and swallowed my pride. "Please listen to me. I'm sorry, baby, okay? I'm so, so sorry that I upset you and hurt you. That's the last thing I ever want to do, I really need you to believe that."

Sighing, he looked away, turning his head to the left to stare into the inky black reflection of the bathroom window. The distance between us brought tears to my eyes, and I began to prepare for him to say he didn't think we could fix anything.

I took another step forward, crossing the threshold to join him in the bathroom, and tentatively reached for his hand. I was relieved when he didn't pull or move away, but with him still refusing to look at me, I tried again. "I don't know what else I can say or do, please tell me what will make this better? If it takes me getting on my knees and begging for forgiveness, then I will."

This made him bring his head back to face me, his expression cynical, thinking I was being flippant. Realising I was deadly serious, he frowned, "No, you don't have to do that."

"Harry, I love you, and I don't want us to end this way. Can we please forget this? Can we forget everything and start afresh, like we said we would?"

"I want to..."

"But?"

"What you said... Fuck, I don't know, Lil. Like, worst-case scenario, what if you had lost all your clients? What if my fans did end up ruining your business? Would you still be trying to make this better? Or would it all be too much and you would finish with me?"

My defences shot up - feeling like he was accusing me of only wanting to make amends because everything had worked out fine - but I quickly appreciated his perspective and pushed them back down. He had a valid point, and as much as it upset me that he thought I could even be like that, I understood why. It was easy to say I wanted to stick at our relationship when things were okay, but I had buckled at the first hurdle of our supposed new beginnings. In some ways, I had failed a test of loyalty and strength in his eyes, one that reinforced my claims that I would be able to cope with anything that might get thrown my way from our relationship being public knowledge. He probably didn't know that he was testing me, and it was most likely subconscious, but he had.

Pulling out my phone, I opened my messages to Rose and scrolled up to the one I'd sent telling her that I had landed in Heathrow from LA, and was just waiting to pick up my luggage. I showed Harry the timestamp, I then opened the sparse, single-line texts between him and I, and quickly located the message I'd sent from the plane with my first apology. His concern was valid, but it wasn't necessary. I'd come to my senses hours before I'd found out from Rose that everything with the business was nowhere near as catastrophic as my anxiety had led me to believe. I'd had a moment of doubt and worry, but I'd never had any inclination of ending our relationship.

Harry looked at my phone - his name in my contacts now had several heart emojis on either side - and when I closed the messages, the picture we had taken on our hike was still there as my background. Harry Styles was a part of my life, and this time it was going to stay that way.

"If you want to break up then that's fine, you go your way and I'll go mine. We've done it before in much more painful circumstances. But, and I need you to hear me when I say this, Harry, because I really fucking mean it: I do not want us to break up, I had no thought of breaking up with you because of the actions of idiots with no boundaries, and, unless you do something really stupid, I have no intention of breaking up with you any time soon, if ever." Tossing my phone onto the bed behind me, I placed my free hand on his bare shoulder, and warily leant up to kiss his cheek. He remained unmoved, - although there were tears in his eyes - but I stayed where I was as I whispered against his skin, "We said we were in this for the long haul and I meant it. I'm sorry for making you doubt that, I'm sorry for hurting you."

I kissed him again, moving my hand up along his neck to settle on the curve of his jaw, taking the fact he hadn't moved away as a hopeful sign. Slowly, he turned his head until his lips met my kisses, and he let go of the hand he'd been holding so that he could envelop me in his arms.

"I don't ever want to lose you again," Harry mumbled.

"Just because we argue it doesn't mean you're going to lose me."

Pulling away slightly so that he could rest his forehead against mine, he quietly said, "I know. But I've lost you before, and I've lost friends and relationships because of fans attacking them."

"I know, I know why you thought that that's what I meant." I cupped his face in my palms and gently pressed a kiss to his lips, before standing on tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "But that's not what's going to happen with me, okay? I can say that with absolute certainty. If I lost the business then I'd start all over again, just like before. Their actions are not your fault, and we are stronger than that."

Harry didn't quite believe what I was saying, I could see it in his eyes as he nodded and kissed me. I was sure he'd heard statements about not caring about trolls on social media, broken promises about being able to handle it, and I couldn't blame his wariness, or the people who'd gone back on their word. However - and I couldn't put my finger on exactly why - I felt confident when I told him that the abuse didn't phase me enough to call things off. It was horrid, and it had been sitting in a tight knot in my chest since I'd read all of the horrible things that were being said about me by total strangers, but when I'd thought about my life without him in it, I'd realised that what I'd said to Jeff was true: Harry was worth it. He was worth what it took to block the hate out, he was worth all we had gone through to get to where we were and how we had fought to fix everything, and he was worth building up walls and barriers around certain people to keep his - our - lives private and secure.o

Soft, sweet kisses grew slowly into something far more heated. Hurt and anger and upset fading away so that we could recognise that we were not only together and alone, but we were also on our first ever holiday. In Italy! Neither one of us had anywhere to go or anybody to see, no meetings, no shows - it would simply be Harry and me, relaxing. And having an obscene amount of sex.

Moving in the direction of the bed, he went to begin undressing me, but I stopped him.

"I need to shower first, I feel gross after travelling," I explained, moving his hand away from the button on my jeans. "Besides, I need to show you how very, very sorry I am."

A devilish grin appeared on Harry's lips as I pulled the towel wrapped around his waist free and let it fall on the floor. I pushed him down to sit on the bed, and he lifted my t-shirt to kiss over my stomach and just under where the wire of my bra sat while I took the hair-tie off my wrist to scrape my hair back off my face.

"Maybe I need to get upset with you more often," he said with a playful smirk, watching me get down on my knees before him.

"Baby, we don't have to fall out for me to suck your dick, all you have to do is ask."

Chuckling, he leaned forward to hook a finger under my chin and kissed me. "Sure you don't want to get up on the bed and let me fuck you?"

The offer was tempting - very, _very_ tempting - but I shook my head and pushed his shoulders back so that I could set my eyes on the prize. Settling to recline on his hands, with his legs falling apart so that I could move closer, Harry bit his bottom lip and watched me with interest and anticipation. I wanted to be tender and loving, to gently reassure him that I was truly sorry and that I had no desire to be anywhere else in life than with him. We could easily fuck away the anger and hurt just like we had in my hallway, but we hadn't had that kind of fight, and I wanted to... without a better way to put it, I wanted to worship him in the way he did me. I'd thought I'd been making it clear to him that the love and adoration he showed me was mutual, but it was rare I got the opportunity to get on my knees and give Harry the same attention he gave me. He was always eager to please me, and with a mouth like his, he was born for it, but love and sex are about give and take, and I wanted to give a little.

Dragging my nails lightly over Harry's hips and down to his thighs, I lovingly kissed along the length of his cock, from base to tip. Already hard and sitting flat against his stomach, the skin felt smooth against my lips, occasionally slipping out my tongue and feeling the bumps of his veins on it. When I reached the head, I took him in my hand and pulled it up so that I could wrap my fingers around the girth. With my aquamarine nails highlighted by the darkening shade of pink of his cock, I started to move my hand, building up to the moment when I finally put my mouth on him fully.

Hand moving, I pressed more kisses around the base of his shaft - my lips parting slightly so that I could lick him every so often. I kissed his hips and over the laurels on his abdomen, my lips touching everywhere but the one place he was beginning to need me to.

"Lil," Harry muttered, fingertips brushing wisps of my hair off my face. He opened his mouth to speak again, but fell silent and watched as I finally slid my pouted lips over the head of his cock. With a relieved, guttural sigh, he groaned, "Oh fuck, Layla."

Taking him as deep as my gag reflexes could stand, and coating him in a slick coat of my saliva, I was encouraged by the sound of Harry's breathing growing quicker. I worked his cock with my hands, mouth, and tongue, switching between the three and changing from fast and slow, coaxing and edging him closer to the release we both knew was needed. Sucking, caressing, licking, and stroking, I paid attention to everything I did, giving him my undivided attention.

His fingers tangled under the messy bun at the top of my head, lifting his hips as he whispered, "I'm so close, you're gonna make me come!"

Still focused on my task, I lifted my gaze to watch as his lips parted and his eyes dropped to a half-close. It took a few seconds more before I felt the grip in my hair tightening, and the jutting of his hips which pushed his cock further into my mouth; moving sloppily as he spilt himself down my throat. Swallowing every drop, I slowed my movements until he started to pull away, then I stopped completely.

Harry removed his hand off my head and flopped back onto the bed, breathing heavily and chuckling quietly.

"Good?" I asked, laying my head on the tiger on his thigh, and reaching a hand up to meet where one of his lay on his tummy.

"So good. Fuck! You kill me, James."

We stayed as we were for a moment while Harry recovered. After a while of no sound other than that of his breathing returning to normal, and rain hitting the windows, I looked up to make sure he wasn't looking at me, so I could say something I didn't think I was capable of when we were face to face.

"There is something you said when we were fighting, and I just want to make it clear." I checked again to see if he was sitting up, and when I saw that he wasn't, or that he wasn't making any effort to speak, his thumb stroking the back of his hand was the only sign giving away that he hadn't fallen asleep. "I know I wouldn't have nothing if I lost my business, I know I would have you, and I would have my friends. It's more that-"

"You don't want to rely on anyone for anything like you had to rely on Will."

"Yes. Yeah, that's exactly it."

This time Harry did move; lifting to prop himself up on his elbows so that he could look at me. "I know that, baby. Or at least, I know it now, after stewing in my rage and talking with mum. I guess I was just being petty." Sitting up fully, he placed a hand on my face and brushed my cheek with his thumb. "Lil, one of the things I love about the relationship we have now, is that we're our own people as well as being together. I have an antisocial job that I love, and I love that you have the same. You're just as important to me as my work is, but in different ways, and I know that's how it is for you, too. Or at least I think so."

"No, you're right, that's how I feel, too. It cut deeper than anything that you thought I only cared about was my job. At that moment, yeah, my number one concern was work, but you are just as important to me."

Harry nodded that he understood and agreed, before glancing down at himself, naked and limp-cocked. "I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. How about we both go shower, have some dinner, come back to bed and have sex, then sleep? We can start afresh in the morning."

"That sounds wonderful."


	26. Fishing For A Dream

My body was awake before my brain. With my hand feeling over the sheets to find Harry, I stirred fully awake when I found only the warmth of where he had slept. I was momentarily confused about where I was; Italy or London? Opening one eye and squinting against the early morning sunshine as it poured in through the bedroom windows of the villa, I lifted my head up to look around the room.

Italy. I hadn't dreamt our reconciliation; the warmth on the sheets next to me was not from Stan but Harry.

Laying back down with a sleepy smile, and gravitating over to his side, I stretched out my arms and legs comfortably. It wasn't unusual to wake up and find Harry already gone. The more we got used to being in each other's beds, the less important it was becoming to wake up next to each other. And, for all his talk of loving sleep, he seemed pretty keen on getting up early to do yoga, meditate or go for a jog.

I, however, was on holiday! It was my first real holiday since starting the business, (California had not been a holiday, it had been a necessity, and I'd somehow left more stressed than when I'd arrived) and all I wanted was to lay in bed and do nothing. I didn't want to rush to get up, and I didn't want to get woken up by my alarm or the cat! For the first day or two, the most energy I wanted to exert was lifting wine or food to my face, sex, and maybe swimming (and by swimming, I mean lounging on a lilo with a book in hand).

Tummy rumbling, I finally gave in and got up. Heading downstairs, I strolled through the lounge and into the huge kitchen and noticed that the door to the patio was ajar. All was still in the house as I poured myself a glass of ice water from the fridge, but from outside, I could hear the occasional sound of guitar strings being plucked and strummed.

I hesitated before walking over to the kitchen door - not wanting to disturb or interrupt him if he was writing - but, lightly treading over to it, I spotted Harry. He was sitting at the small, wrought iron breakfast table, guitar on his lap and one leg stretched out onto the next seat over. On the table was a cup of coffee, his phone, a pen and an open notebook. The pages of the book would try to flutter over whenever there was a breeze, but his phone and biro kept them weighted down. Every so often, Harry would pause his fingers on the strings to scribble something down before going back to gazing out over the rolling Umbrian hills, watching as the mist rose up from the sun warming the earth, resuming the melody he was slowly piecing together.

I hadn't ever really seen him working before. I'd watched him light up entire arenas, working the stage, and I'd even briefly seen him in the studio when I was in L.A., but songwriting seemed like a whole different kind of work. Unless it was someone like Paul McCartney whose songs came to him in his dreams, the idea of being able to take a lyric or a melody that came from nowhere, and create a whole song with multiple layers and vocals around that seemed amazing to me - I am an admirer of the arts, and definitely not a creator. Witnessing Harry sitting and working on his music was truly lovely, and a moment to treasure and admire.

I was about to leave him in peace and go into the living room, when, sensing me watching him, he turned his head in my direction.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said, his smile as bright as the morning sun.

Pushing the door fully open, and stepping out barefoot onto the stone patio that was much colder than I expected, I tiptoed over to him.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" I asked, leaning down to kiss him good morning. "I was about to go start working on my speech if you want to be left alone."

Harry hummed softly as my lips touched his, reaching an arm up around my shoulder to hold me close to him. Eventually parting a little, he shook his head. "No, I just had some words and a little tune I needed to get out before it disappeared. Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a baby. I woke up missing you, though." Sitting down in the seat next to him, I took in our surroundings whilst I reached across and rubbed my hand over the back of his neck and shoulders. "I can't get over how beautiful this place is. I didn't get to appreciate it properly last night."

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing." Harry tilted his head backwards slightly, hinting that he wanted me to run my fingers through his hair. "So, what did you want to do today, then, James?"

Closing my eyes and turning my face to the sun, I enjoyed the soft texture of his hair and sighed, "nothing. I want to do absolutely nothing today."

With a quiet laugh, Harry didn't respond but instead played a pretty little melody on his guitar. Feeling the warmth of the mid-morning sun, and hearing his music mixing with the sound of birds singing and pages quivering in the gentle breeze, I was at peace for the first time in months. There was still a lot on my mind, but for a moment I began to feel the tension in my shoulders and forehead begin to loosen.

Harry paused his fingers, "I was thinking that maybe we can go see Mum when we get home, before you have to go back to work. I flew from Manchester so my car's at the airport."

I tried to contain my smile as I replied, "Sure, that would be nice." We'd made up the night before (twice) so I knew that we were likely back on the right track, but him suggesting we go visit Anne was the reassurance I needed to know that he had forgiven me. "I'll let Rose know so that she can keep Stan an extra night."

Rolling his head to look at me, Harry's smile could have been mistaken for smugness, but I knew better. "I'll let her know. Maybe we can go up for a proper visit later in the year?"

Fireworks went off in my chest hearing that he was thinking we'd still be together in six months time. I hadn't wanted to count my chickens too far in advance, (especially considering I wasn't even sure we would be together by the end of the week less than twenty-four hours before) so to know that he was looking that far ahead made me giddy.

I shifted my chair close enough that I could rest my chin on his shoulder, draping my arm around his neck to slide my hand under the opening of his shirt and stroke his warm chest. "Definitely. I'll be in dire need of a break from Christmas parties, and before the wedding, so it'll be lovely."

"We'll have to get you some wellies so that we can go on a proper tour. Wrap you up warm so you look like a country girl."

"I have some at home, thank you very much!"

Giggling as he kissed me, I pictured walking with him in the countryside as Autumn turned to Winter. A sunny day when the air was crisp with the cold; the frozen grass crunching under our Wellington boots as we strolled along, bundled up with hats, gloves, and scarves; our cheeks red, and lungs full of clean, fresh air. With so many wonderful things to come, I almost longed for Winter.

**-**

After a lazy day of sunbathing, snoozing, and swimming in our private pool, Harry and I went upstairs to have a bath before dinner. Considering it was something we did a lot when we first started dating, we hadn't shared a bath since we'd gotten back together. However, with a big, beautiful tub and a breathtaking view outside from it, it was only fitting to take advantage.

Harry was already in the tub when I wandered into the bathroom; his eyes closed as he luxuriated in warm water and bubbles, with steam rising up around him, and a glass of red wine in the hand which hung over the roll-top edge. Whilst he was momentarily unaware, I stood in the doorway and watched him. There was something truly sexy and decadent about seeing his tattooed skin wet and glistening as he lounged in a bubble bath, the setting sun outside casting a golden-orange colour glow over him. It could have almost been an Edward Hopper painting; a picturesque snapshot of someone oblivious to being watched, alone and intimate.

Prising one eye open, a devilish grin spread over his lips while his free hand dipped into the water, the movement of it under the bubbles which covered his modesty hinting at what he was doing. "Are you getting in, or are you just going to sit and watch me?"

The offer to watch Harry get himself off was almost too tempting. Moving into the room, I held out an envelope for him to take. He sat up and reached down to place his glass on the tiled floor, wiped his wet hand on his dry hair, and accepted my offering.

"Layla James and Harry Styles," he read aloud, before looking up at me.

I prompted, "Open it. It is for both of us."

With a wide, dimpled smile, he untucked the folded-in flap of the envelope and pulled out the invitation to Rose and Dee's wedding. It was on thick, ivory paper which had an embossed gold illustration of the Brighton Pavilion, surrounded by watercolour-style holly and red berries. Inside, there was a small card so that we could provide our menu choices, and where we could suggest a song we would like to hear during the disco in the evening.

Clearing his throat, Harry read, "Together with their parents, Rosemary Jane Fullerton and Dionne Athena Barry request the pleasure of Layla and Harry at their marriage." Raising his gaze back up to me, and handing the invitation back so it wouldn't get ruined, he held onto it as he smugly asked, "So, this makes me your official date, huh?"

"I guess it does."

"Hmm, I will have to check my calendar."

"Best be quick - I'll need to find a replacement date and get Rose to fix me up a new invitation."

Laying back down, wine glass returned to his hand and raised to his lips, he watched intently as I took off my oversized shirt and peeled off my swimsuit. I climbed into the tub and sat between his parted legs. I waited for him to adjust to a comfortable position before laying back against his chest, joining him in the last glow of the setting sun.

After we both got settled, Harry passed me a glass of white wine from the long, wooden shelf next to the bath. Clinking his glass against mine, he kissed my cheek and said, "I get to cop off with one of the bridesmaids, of course I'll be there."

"Oh really?" I grinned, "Which one?"

"I can't remember her name now, but she's dead fit. Think she might be Maid of Honour?"

"I didn't know you knew Dee's older sister?" I turned my head and was met with a kiss that made me feel as drunk as the wine. Pulling away before I threw my glass away and pounced, I raised my free hand to scoop water onto Harry's knee as it poked up out of the bubbles. "There's something else."

"Hmm?"

"Well, it's about Christmas. I told you about the house we're going to stay in, right? The one near Brighton."

I felt Harry move as he placed his empty wine glass on the floor. "Yeah, with Rose and Dee and their families?"

Pausing, I decided to omit that Will would also be there, hopeful that by the time Christmas came around we would know who had gone to the press, and Harry and Will's friendship would be back on track. Providing it hadn't been Will, of course.

"Yep. Well, and I mean, I understand that you normally spend Christmas up north, so if you'd rather just drive back or whatever on Boxing Day, then that's entirely up to you but-"

I turned my head as he leaned forward to look at me. "Baby, are you asking me to spend Christmas with you and your family?"

Just the very fact that he'd called them my family made me want to cover his face in kisses. _I_ knew they were my family, but hearing him say it touched my heart. "Yesss... But! Please don't feel like you have to, I honestly understand if you just want to spend it at home with your family."

Harry's face split into a smile as he shook his head, "No, no, I would love to. I'm sure Mum will understand. But we'll definitely have to go and see her before Christmas, AND, we'll definitely, definitely, have to go to hers next year."

I didn't know what I was happier about: Harry agreeing to be my date for the wedding, that he wanted to spend Christmas with me, or that he was already talking about next year! I was over the moon, on cloud nine, and thoroughly pleased as punch! It was all that and more.

Biting back a smile, I nodded, "Deal and deal. Are you sure she won't mind? I don't want it to seem like I'm stealing you away at a time you normally spend with them."

"No, I promise she'll be fine. It's not like it's for any old reason!"

"Okay."

He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his cheek against mine, "I'm so excited to spend Christmas Day with you. What do you want me to get you?"

"Well, I'd be happy with whatever you got me, my love. But, and not to sound soft and mushy... you don't have to get me anything. I really will be glad to simply spend the day with you."

"If you think I'm not getting my girlfriend a gift, then you're mad," Harry scoffed. Kissing along my jaw, up to my ear, he then quietly said, "Layla James, I'd give you the world if you asked for it."

Perhaps it was cheesy, and perhaps it was clichéd and corny, but it made me melt into his arms. I twisted my upper body so that I could reach up and pull him into my eager kiss. I was excited for December, but I wanted him right now. I wanted to show him that I would give him the world and more if he asked for it, too.

"What do you want from me?" I asked between kisses, hoping he gave me a genuine answer - or at least a clue - because I honestly had no idea what to get him. "I want to spoil you."

Harry pulled away slightly to look at me, his smile from ear to ear. "Y'know what you said about being happy with whatever, but that you'd be content with nothing because you'd get everything just by being with me?"

I mirrored his grin and rolled my eyes, knowing what he was going to say, "Yes, yes, I do."

"Well, that's not at all how I feel! I want a Rolex, I need a new phone, I think I've lost one of my air po-" He burst into giggles as I sucked my teeth and turned back to gaze out of the window at the foot of the bath.

Leaning forward and turning on the hot water tap, I laughed at what an idiot he was. My adorable, funny, idiot. "Mate, all you'll be getting is a bloody lump of coal at this rate!"

"You, Lil," he said, giggling close to my ear as he pulled me back against him and pressed kisses on the sweet spot of my neck. "All I want is you. And maybe you could wear one of those cute Santa dresses for me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but as his teeth grazed my skin, the only sound I made was a breathy whimper. Encouraged by my reaction, he did it again, but this time a little harder. My body almost fell limp, and I tilted my head further to the side so that he could get at my neck easier.

"That feels amazing," I breathed, aware of his hands moving under my arms and settling on my breasts.

Stretching out my foot and turning off the tap with my toes, I raised an arm behind me so I could run my fingers through Harry's hair; digits tangling in his damp, wavy locks.

His lips travelled up to my ear, as I watched his right hand begin to travel down over my stomach to between my parted legs. Head falling back against his shoulder, I exhaled with a breathy sigh when I felt his touch on my pussy, stroking over it lightly in a way that felt maddeningly erotic, yet extremely frustrating.

"I'm going to make you come in here," he whispered, quietly in my ear, "then we're going to get out, and I'm going to lay you on the bed, and eat you out until you can't even think."

Hips pushing up against his palm for him to stop teasing and touch me properly, I let out a bashful whine, "Harryyy."

Harry chuckled and kissed my cheek, his fingertips finally parting my lips and lightly circling my needy hub of nerves. The water meant the movement was less smooth, but having him edge closer to my clit was enough to elicit a positive response.

The tattooed hand that cupped one of my breasts moved up to graze my neck, and the thought of it curving around my throat made me gasp in surprised excitement, which took both of us by surprise. Continuing his hand's journey to my shoulder - pulling my arm back so that my back arched up off his chest - he muttered, "We're revisiting _that_ at some point."

It wasn't long before my echoing moans filled the bathroom, my head turning so my forehead pressed to his cheek as my fingers gripped his hair and my climax took me over. Jumbled thoughts of how much I loved him and how good I felt from his touch filled my head until my body began to shake.

"Stop, I can't... stop," I whimpered.

Harry's touch left my sensitive nerves and moved up to settle gently on my chest. He peppered my face with kisses as I rolled over as much as I could to cuddle up to him. The water was getting cold, and all of the bubbles had disappeared, but I didn't want to get out just yet. I wanted to lay in his arms, watching the flickering of candlelight on the ceiling, and enjoy as I slowly came down from my high. He'd agreed to be my date at the wedding, we were going to be spending Christmas together, we were making plans to meet each other's families, and, the cherry on top, was the most delicious orgasm (which was likely to be the first of many). I hated to tempt fate, but this was what true happiness felt like. It was further proof that he and I did have something worth fighting and working for. When things were bad they were terrible, but when they were right, it was all so effortless and wonderful.


	27. Sweet Thing

After a few days of not really doing anything or going anywhere, I sensed Harry was beginning to get antsy to leave our little corner of the estate. With the grounds being so expansive, it came as no surprise when he pointed out that we could hire their lake for the day; we'd have use of the lake house, and it was completely private. Holidays with Harry were very different from the ones I was used to, that was for sure.

Strolling down the tree-lined, stone pathway after being dropped off by the Reschio driving service, as soon as Harry spotted the water he quickened his steps. He rushed us both to the edge of the lake and stopped to take in the view. Large enough that one would need a boat to go from one side to the other, but small enough that it wouldn't take long to walk the circumference, it was lined with trees and grass and wildflowers. To our left was a long, narrow jetty where there were a couple of rowboats, and to our immediate right was the small lake house, which had already been prepped for our arrival. It was beautiful.

"Are we going straight in?" I asked after a few moments of total silence, apart from the sound of nature around us.

Harry nodded with a grin, "Absolutely."

We put our belongings inside the lake house - which was small but perfectly formed, and beautifully decorated just like our villa. There was a comfortable two-seater sofa, a coffee table; there were a few directors chairs that could be moved through the bifold doors to sit out on the deck that overlooked the lake, and a small shower room. It was all so perfect that had I not stubbed my toe getting into the shower that morning, I would have pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

I convinced Harry that we should go out in one of the boats first - I didn't want to admit it to him, but swimming in water where I couldn't see the bottom made me a little nervous. Setting the oars of the rowboat down, so we were adrift in the middle of the water, he carefully moved to come and sit on the wooden bench with me, wrapping his arm around my lower back and placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. He sighed happily as I sensed him relaxing, resting his cheek where his lips had recently been and stretching out his toned legs.

For a little while we didn't say anything, and simply enjoyed the near silence around us. There was the occasional splash of water lapping against the boat as it gently rocked, birds singing, the soft rustle of leaves as they swayed in the gentle breeze, and the occasional bleating of sheep in nearby fields. It was surprisingly nice to take a break from the constant noise of London, and just listen to nature. I'd always been one who needed some sort of distraction, so being in the city was perfect, but with Harry - and old age - I had discovered a new-found enjoyment for stillness and calm.

Quietly clearing his throat so as not to disturb the peace too much, Harry said, "Gem told me you two met up."

It had slipped my mind with everything else going on to tell him that I'd met and spoken with his sister about the falling out he and I'd had. Smiling as I remembered her advice that Harry just needed some time to calm down, and how comfortable I'd felt opening up to her, I was glad she'd been right.

"Yeah, we met for coffee. I figured it was about time we talked."

"She said it was nice to speak to you properly. She also said that she likes you."

"I like her, too," I replied with a grin. "We had a very nice chat, and I'm glad we can put that past behind us."

Harry nodded his head and began to kiss along my shoulder, up to my ear. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making that effort. It means a lot to me for you and her, well, for you and everyone to get along." Gazing up at me with golden-green eyes, he said: "Going to meet up with Gemma when we weren't really speaking... it... I'm just glad we aren't giving up at the first hurdle."

I raised my hand to run my fingers over the scruff on his jaw, heart skipping with adoration when he leant his head into my touch.

"I know things appear quite delicate at the moment, and neither one of us wants to do or say anything to-" pausing I looked around and wiggled my body so the boat moved slightly- "quite literally rock the boat. But if I was in a place where the first fall out was going to scare me off then I wouldn't have agreed to be with you. H, baby, I know we've both agreed that this is our last chance, but that's about the serious stuff, not misunderstandings or silly arguments. You get that, right?"

"I do now, maybe I didn't before." He looked out across the lake, and I wondered if it was to avoid showing me the hurt in his eyes from thinking about all of the horrible things that must have gone through his head when we'd fought. "I guess I thought it was one strike and you're out."

"Not at all."

"I know. Well, I know that now." Turning his head back to face me, his lips curved up in a smile, dimples making an appearance. "So, we'll just stick to bickering from now on then, yeah?"

"Yep. I will continue to be perfect and you can continue being extremely annoying!" I giggled and leant forward to kiss him, humming with happiness as our lips met, and he pulled me even closer to him.

"Sure thing, Little Miss Stubborn."

With a light tap on the tip of his nose with my finger, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

-

Our aching arms and hunger made us leave the water; swimming and frolicking causing our tummies to rumble. The sun was still on us as we rowed over to the jetty, so as soon as we were in the shade of the trees, we both started to shiver from the drop in temperature. We giggled with chattering teeth as we raced up the few stone steps into the house, both of us vocally expressing how cold we were. Inside, huddled together under soft, white, fluffy towels, grinning from ear to ear, we jigged our bodies around to get warm.

"I didn't think the water was that cold!" I laughed, reaching up with the corner of my towel to wipe away a droplet of water as it ran down from Harry's hairline to the middle of his nose. "I wanted to go back in after eating, but I'm not sure I want to anymore."

He nodded in agreement, though I knew he would definitely be going back in (and I suspected I would too once I warmed up a little). "Maybe we should go and eat lunch on the jetty, in the sun? Or do you want to stay in here?"

Feeling warmth slowly returning to my extremities, I used my towel to sponge the water out of my hair. "Out in the sun would be nice."

"Or..." Harry's eyes wandered over my body, and his smile turned suggestive, "... maybe we should just get you out of these wet things?"

He took a step closer and leant forward, kissing me as though he half expected me to push him away and call him a deviant. However, I was on holiday, and couldn't think of a better way to get warm, so I kissed him back and pressed my cold, damp body against his. Quick to respond, he dropped his towel to the floor and started to peel the straps of my swimsuit off my shoulders, pulling the top halfway down until it sat around my waist.

Topless, I shivered as he gently brushed over my hardened nipples with the backs of his fingers, making him chuckle when he observed goosebumps appearing across my breasts.

"Cold?" He asked, the words warm against my skin, his mouth moving down my neck as he pulled me with him to the couch.

Pausing to throw my towel across the terracotta-coloured cushions so that Harry's wet clothes wouldn't soak them, I waited for him to sit. As he got comfortable and pulled his swim shorts down to his ankles - his erection springing free to land with a light slap against his stomach - I pushed my swimming costume down past my thighs until it hit the wooden floor, and stepped out of it.

Harry's arms were around my waist as soon as I sat astride his lap, pulling my body against him so his lips could trail from one nipple to the other. I ran my fingers through his wet hair, kissing the top of his head. When I lowered down so that I could kiss him, his head fell back to meet my lips, and I felt his hand moving the tip of his cock to my entrance.

I held my breath as I sank down onto him, stretching my walls and making me gasp into his mouth as my brow knitted together. Gripping onto the back of the sofa, I slowly dropped my behind down so that he filled me completely.

"Oh fuck! Oh,... Harry," I whispered, sitting still for a moment before holding his face in my hands, and kissing him deeply.

Slowly, I started to move my hips. Harry groaned, his eyes locking with mine as a lopsided smile curved the corner of his mouth, awakening butterflies in my tummy over how bloody beautiful he was! His hands settled on the curve of my waist, fingers lightly sinking into my skin and helping me move at a steady, lazy rhythm.

Sitting up straight, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to the ceiling. I felt incredible; my whole body tingling and growing warm, Harry's touch wandering over my body, and the sweet sound of moans and laboured breaths.

"Look at me," he told me.

I did as he asked, and he caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers, before letting his thumb rest on my bottom lip. Gazes locked, I took his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it until he slowly pulled it free and dropped his hand back down between my legs. My eyelids fell half closed as he stroked his thumb over my swollen hub of nerves, circling around it so that he only touched it enough to make me gasp and have to place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself. Suddenly distracted and momentarily incapable of multitasking, I came to a stop. The feeling of Harry's cock filling me up, and the brushing strokes over my clit, caused my whimpers to increase in volume, whispering profanities as I sank further into pleasure.

"Baby, I'm so close," I sighed, looking at him and hoping he knew that while I had stopped, I did not want him to.

Shivers ran up and down my spine, and I felt heat prick at my cheeks and a flush of warmth across my chest. With the added help of his hips thrusting up into me as he took the lead, he continued to stroke my swollen bundle of sensitive nerve endings. As my body began to tremble, I clasped at my breast, put my head on his shoulder, and came. I started to pull away from his hand when the delicious aftershocks became too much, but he circled his arms tight around my waist and started to fuck me. My walls clenched tightly around his cock, and I felt so sensitive that I experienced every inch as it moved within me. I pressed my forehead against his so that we were eye to eye, close in each other's space, eager to make the other feel more incredible.

"That's it," Harry whispered as I somehow managed to push through the overstimulation to take the reins of our rhythm again. He gasped, "Fuck, Layla," before falling silent as I rode him harder and faster, rocking back and forth and bringing him closer to the edge.

Eyes widening, he swore suddenly, and his breaths hitched heavily until he cried out; body jerking as his wide eyes clamped shut. Slowing my movements, I kept going until he put a hand on my hip to stop me. He pulled me against him, his head resting between my breasts, lips parted and breathing hot, shuddering puffs of air against my skin.

**-**

Coming down from our high, Harry and I lay on the tiny couch, limbs tangled together, and warm skin on warm skin. Occasionally a cool breeze would float over us from the open bifold doors, gently rustling the trees outside, and giving him a light wash of goosebumps over his arms.

I stroked the tips of my fingers up and down Harry's back - his head on my chest, gazing out at the lake as he lay on his stomach between my legs. He was so still and so quiet that I thought maybe he'd drifted off to sleep.

As I considered taking a nap myself, he mumbled, "Did I tell you I'm coming to Nick's thing?"

Remembering that a few days after returning from Italy that I was going to be working at an event for Nick Grimshaw's - and that I'd seen Harry's reaction to the invitation when he and I weren't speaking, I replied, "No, you didn't. But I saw your RSVP. You really know how to let a girl know you're angry with her."

He lifted his head just enough to press his lips to my collarbone. "I'm sorry. I was being petty. Also, I guessed that maybe I'd have to use it as a chance to see you if you ended up not coming here."

Laying back down, Harry hid his face from me, but his fingers tightened their grip on my hand.

"I'll be honest," I said, moving the subject away from our falling out, "I'm a bit nervous about you seeing me in real work mode. Also... people knowing that we're together will be weird."

"I can't wait to see you like that! I've waited a long time to see you doing what you love. You're not a lady who lunches anymore." I could hear the smile in his voice, and when he tilted his head back so he could look up at me, he was grinning. "I will try not to distract you too much."

"Thanks." Rolling my eyes, I raised both our hands so that I could tap the tip of his nose with my finger for being cheeky.

"As for worrying about what people do and don't know, just remember that a lot of the people there will be my friends or Nick's friends."

"Y'know, when John Lennon got married the first time, he said that at first, it felt like he was wearing odd socks - like, _he_ knew something was different about his life, but most other people didn't-"

"Are you comparing me to socks?" Harry laughed, nose crinkling in amusement.

"No! It's- It's... You and I being together doesn't feel as conspicuous as it once did, but now everybody knows I'm waiting to see if they know I've got odd socks on. Y'know?" I joined in with Harry's giggles, feeling silly as I rambled trying to explain what I meant.

"Baby, I think you've had too much sun."

I whined with frustration, "Harry! No, listen. Ignore the socks part. What I mean is, that really nothing has changed between us, but suddenly people I don't know have all this knowledge about me, except I don't know who knows. Nothing's changed, but everything's different." Groaning, I rubbed my forehead, "Maybe I have had too much sun."

Chuckling, Harry shook his head, "No, I know what you mean. You don't want to assume everyone knows who you are and knows your life story, but then you wonder if they know but are only pretending not to know."

"Yes! Do they know I'm wearing odd socks?!"

He shook his head as he laughed, sitting up before twisting his upper body so he could lean a hand on the back of the sofa and look at me. With his other hand, he touched my cheek, shrugging his shoulders. "I prefer to assume that they do know, but act like they don't until they say or behave otherwise."

I opened my mouth to respond, but changed what I'd planned on saying, and asked, "Do you mind talking about this stuff? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Lil, it's my life," he smiled, "of course you can talk about it with me. I do sometimes forget that not everyone is used to it like I am, and it can take a while to adjust to - if ever, for some people - but I don't expect you to magically know how to deal with it."

"Okay, good." Sitting up, I slid one arm around Harry's waist, and the other around his neck - leaning in to kiss him softly. "Just to repeat what I said the other night; if I have a freak out about this stuff, or I ask questions that make it sound like I'm having doubts, I want you to know that that won't be that case. Okay?"

Harry nodded, holding me close. We stayed that way for a moment, lost in each other's gaze, wrapped in love and honesty.

"Shall we go eat out on the jetty, Socks?" He finally said with a cheeky grin.

"Ugh!" I rolled my head back, regretting even mentioning the whole thing knowing it was probably going to haunt me for the rest of our holiday. "Bloody socks!"

Putting his hand to the back of my head to push it back up, he chuckled quietly as he kissed me, lips sweeping over mine as he told me, "I love you."

**-**

On the jetty, we ate lunch; fresh fruit that was bursting with flavour, locally made cheese, and the bread that had been made that morning. Harry would occasionally feed me strawberries, raspberries, and segments of clementines as I read over my speech for Rose and Dee's wedding. I'd set myself the mission of completing the first draft on my week off, but as it was, all I'd been able to accomplish was writing about the first time Rose mentioned Dee and how long it took for them to _actually_ get together, and googled 'How to write a speech about someone you know better than yourself but can't remember a single story about them'.

"How're you getting on?" Harry asked, setting his acoustic guitar down, and laying down flat on the picnic blanket and closing his eyes to the sun.

"Not great if I'm honest. I want it to be so perfect that I'm getting nowhere." Sighing, I momentarily distracted myself by feeding Harry a strawberry, teasing it over his lips, before letting him sink his teeth into it. The sight of the bright red fruit against his pink lips alone was almost enough to make me throw the speech into the lake and focus entirely on him. However, throwing the leafy stem back into the punnet, I turned my attention to the words - or lack thereof - in my notebook.

"Do you know what you want to say?"

"Baby, you don't have to help me, I'll figure it out." Despite not entirely being convinced that was true, I chuckled, "I'm sure I just need to kick and scream a little and stop over-thinking it."

Harry hummed in agreement, "You're probably right. But I'd like to help you if you need me to."

"Thank you, baby." Giving up and setting my book down, I crawled the short distance to kneel at the top of his head and leant over him. When I lowered my lips to meet his eager mouth, his kiss tasted like summer.

"Have you given up for the day?" he asked, reaching up to touch my hair as it hung down over him.

"I think so, for the moment. You're distracting me, Styles."

"Oh no." Starting to roll over, the look in his eye was mischievous as his head stayed low and his mouth aimed to kiss my bare knee. "That's too bad." As I moved to settle on my behind, Harry spread my legs apart and grazed the sensitive skin on my inner thigh with his teeth. I hadn't put any underwear on under my summer dress after I'd used the tiny shower in the lake house, so there was no obstacle when he reached the top of my leg. "I'm so sorry." The words were muffled as his head filled the gap between my thighs, but just before his tongue swept over my clit, I think he said: "I'd hate to make you lose concentration."


	28. Watermelon Sugar

On our last night in Umbria, we cooked a final meal together, then sat and ate outside as the sun went down. Freshly made pasta, fresh tomatoes and herbs, locally baked bread which had been baked that morning and was still warm, and strawberries with cream for dessert. My belly grumbled as we dished out our food, my skin still glowing from our day in the sun, leaving me warm even as the night air cooled. Sitting down at the table, which would easily fit another eight people, I glanced around at the beauty of my surroundings, and at the person I was with, and sighed.

I'd never been happier or more in love, not only with Harry but with life itself.

Just being alone with him, with no real worries for the real world, and having the time to focus on our relationship, it was exactly what we had needed from the beginning of our reconciliation. I was much more ready to head home and face all that came with publicly being an important part of his life, side by side.

We toasted to ourselves having an enjoyable final evening in Italy, then began to eat.

"I don't want to bring up unsavoury topics while we eat, but this time away has made me realise that I honestly don't care anymore about who went to the press," I said, spreading deliciously salty butter onto the fresh bread we'd gotten from the village earlier in the day, and passing some to Harry. "Maybe they did us a favour."

Nodding, he placed the slice onto the edge of his bowl filled with pasta, cheese, and a delicious tomato sauce, then poured us both some wine.

"I only care because it could..." he paused and looked at me warily, but continued when I waved my hand that I was more open than I had been to hear whatever he had to say, "It could possibly be someone you're close with."

I was quiet for a moment, dipping bread into warm olive oil and balsamic vinegar before chewing on it, thoughtfully. It wasn't that I was no longer upset about the betrayal; it had just been a tough pill to swallow. And, even though I'd known it from the moment Rose dropped that paper on my desk, I had been on the defensive every time Harry suggested I had to look at my friends differently. Time away in semi-solitude had cleared my head and had made me realise that he was right. But I wasn't going to let it really change anything, I simply had to be more cautious. Harry and I weren't a secret anymore, so while I was now playing with a whole new deck, I still had to keep my cards close to my chest and be careful who I showed them too. Just like Joel had said.

Sighing with a heavier heart than I had moments before, I then picked up my cutlery and began to eat. I just had to get used to the fact that as long as I was with Harry, I had to be careful with the people around me. It would take some getting readjusting, but he was genuinely worth it, and it wasn't like I didn't know how to be selective when it came to telling people about my life.

"Jeff's still looking into it, so if he finds out, you can always tell him you don't want to know."

"Oh, no, no, I want to know who it is. I simply mean that it isn't as high on my list of priorities anymore. As long as it wasn't Rose, Dee, or Will, or you, or anyone you know, then... I don't think I'll care."

Harry nodded again, sipping at his wine as though he was getting up the courage to say whatever he was about to, next. I was expecting a potshot at Will, but instead, he asked, "What if it was Bianca?"

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked, semi-playfully.

Quick to assure me, he said, "No, not at all. I just noticed you left her off the list."

The truth was I didn't know how I'd feel if it had been my sister - the sister I'd always hoped one day would be part of my life again. She hadn't responded much to the messages I'd sent after the news of Harry and I came out with more than a couple of words, and I sensed a coldness and distance in the replies she had sent. I kept holding onto the thought that, as someone from Liverpool, if Bianca had sold the story, she would have never gone to ' _The Sun_ '. The hatred for the newspaper was so ingrained in the city that even someone like me, who no longer lived in that place, still refused to buy such a disgusting newspaper. I prayed that Bianca was the same.

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge if I come to it," I replied with a shrug, determined not to weigh myself down with unhappiness, especially concerning things I could not change. "I don't think it was, but if it was then I will deal with it."

Harry reached across to hold my hand as it lay on the table. "We'll deal with it together, baby."

Tangling my fingers with his, I felt the warmest feeling of love in my chest. "Yes, yes, you're right, we will."

**-**

After a couple of glasses of potent red wine, the night seemed to sparkle (Harry had slowly converted me into liking it. Also, the bottles we'd bought from the Reschio vineyard seemed far tastier than any I'd tasted from my local off-licence). Leaning back just enough so that I didn't fall off the wooden bench and land flat on my back on the gravel, I gazed up at the stars I rarely saw in London.

"Look at the sky! Look at the stars!" I whispered, wishing I knew more about constellations to know what I was looking at. Then, at the same moment as Harry, I sang, "Look how they shine for you."

Dropping my head down to look at him, we both giggled. He was watching me closely, his wine glass in hand and held to his cheek, with an expression on his face that made my tummy somersault with excitement.

"Are you a little drunk, James?" he asked with a smile.

"Only a little bit, Styles."

Harry's eyebrows quirked up suggestively, a lopsided smirk painting his lips as he drained the remainder of his glass. I got up from my seat, and walked to his side of the table, and ran my fingers through his wavy, floppy hair as I leant down to kiss him. Lips parting instantly, his tongue caressed mine slowly, tasting like red wine, good food, and the sweetness that was unmistakably him.

Turning in his seat so that he sat on the edge of the bench, facing me, he pulled me to sit on his lap and whispered, "I can't believe we're here."

"Hmm?"

Caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers, he rested his forehead against mine. "Every time I've been to Italy, I've thought about you and your birthday."

"I said Venice." Smiling, I kissed him again.

"Yeah, when we talked about what we would do if we could be in public together."

"I remember. It seems like... like a lifetime ago. I still haven't been, maybe I was subconsciously saving it for you."

"For a moment, just then, I looked at you and couldn't believe that we made it. We should go to Venice, and..." Moving to kiss me again, he hesitated. Then, speaking with a voice that was barely above a murmur, his lips moved a little closer to my ear, "I think when we get married, we should do it in Italy."

I recoiled and pulled away, but not entirely in horror. Still holding me close so that I couldn't fully make a run for the hills, I saw worry that he'd ruined the moment flit across Harry's face. But he hadn't. In fact, I liked the idea of us getting hitched somewhere in Italy, surrounded by close friends and loved ones, something intimate and casual, but beautiful. However, I still wasn't ready to seriously think about it as more than just a little fantasy quite yet.

"Was that a proposal?" I asked with a teasing smile, loosening the tightness in my arms which had involuntarily pushed him away, a little.

Harry shook his head and chuckled, "No, don't worry, Lil, it wasn't a proposal. Just a suggestion."

"Well, okay." Closing the gap between us, I brushed the tip of my nose against his and hoped I hadn't offended him. "In that case, I am just tipsy enough to say that while I'm still not ready for the event itself, I... I definitely do not hate your suggestion of us having an Italian wedding."

Trying to conceal his beaming grin, he kissed me softly - his fingers sliding up my neck and into my loose curls. As we kissed I lost myself in him and the thought of one day being his wife. When we'd sat down and discussed what we wanted from our future and he'd pulled out that engagement ring, it had terrified the life out of me. I knew instantly when Joel proposed that I didn't want to marry him, so I'd never really been confronted by the trauma I still had from being married to Will. But with Harry, I saw it so clearly that the reality of it happening was a rude awakening of just how terrified I was of getting married again. I wasn't scared of making the commitment to him, but of all of the things that could go wrong if and when I did.

I'd been scared when I saw that ring, but I didn't feel as scared anymore. I- no, _we_ really weren't ready for that next step just yet, but maybe it wasn't as far away as I'd originally thought.

Pulling away just enough for me to stand, I sat back down, but this time astride his lap. The need to be closer than close overwhelmed me as I pressed my body up against him, hips rolling and feeling his growing hardness against my sweet spot.

"This week has been perfect," I whispered against his lips, fingers pulling apart the buttons of the cream linen shirt he wore and running my palms over his chest. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Harry replied, lowering his head to kiss my neck.

"Do you want dessert?"

"Later."

Gently pushing the white cotton strap of my dress off of my shoulder, he pressed his soft, warm lips against where it had been, adding a drop more sunshine to my sun-kissed skin. As my head fell back, his open mouth burned a trail over my chest and his fingers began to undo the buttons at the front of my dress; undoing each one down to my waist. Letting it fall open, my breasts were only exposed to the open air for a beat before one was covered by his huge hand, and his mouth enveloped the other.

Moaning his name, I moved against him with refreshed neediness. My head and heart were light with love, but I felt weighted down by the aching desire that Harry awoke so easily within me. I wanted him there and I wanted him then, under the stars and under the vague thought of what our wedding would be.

My hand gravitated down between us, the flat of my palm gliding back and forth over his rock hard cock as it strained against the fabric of his trousers. Harry's groan vibrated deep against my breast, then suddenly there was a flurry movement as I was lifted up, my feet hit the floor, and he made me stand. About to protest, I fell silent as he backed me up against the edge of the table - lust, desire, and anticipation stealing my words and turning them to a whimper.

I had been wondering what it was about the week we'd spent together that felt so good, what had felt so different from Milan or LA, I just hadn't been able to put my finger on it. But as Harry leant past me to blow out the candles on the table behind me before sweeping everything off with a loud crash, it hit me - we were beginning to feel like the old Harry and Layla. But in the best possible way. We had moved on from our falling out, and moved on from the hurt and pain we had caused each other, and, _finally_ , we were fully looking to the future and not the past which had been hanging around our necks like a millstone.

"Harry!" I gasped as he lifted me onto the heavy, wooden table and settled between my parted legs. "The plates! The gla-"

Leaning in to silence me with a kiss, he flashed a cheeky grin and chuckled, "I'll buy them new ones."

I could have probably argued and insisted we cleaned up, but his daring recklessness was too much of a turn on to even really consider stopping him. We would tidy the mess, and pay for any damages, so, instead of halting things, I grabbed at the front of his shirt with both hands and pulled him hard against me.

Other than the hate-fuck in my hallway on the night Harry and I first went to dinner and had gotten into a fight, every time we'd had sex, there were a lot of emotions running wild, or it had been tender and loving. Neither one of us was able to be certain that things weren't going to go tits up at any moment. We'd been enjoying ourselves, enjoying building something new and exciting with the hope it would last, but I had subconsciously been waiting for it to all go wrong, and the fight in Los Angeles told me clearly that Harry felt the same and was waiting for me to push him away at any moment. But our time away had been perfect, and nobody had come crawling out of the woodwork to dispute that he and I were in a relationship, and I hadn't wanted to go anywhere just because of an argument over something that wasn't his fault. When we'd been having sex since getting back together, there was a subconscious thought that it could possibly be the last time, mixed with disbelief that we were together again. As Harry laid me down on the table and started to drag his hands up my thighs, pushing my dress up as they travelled, I realised that all of that worry was gone. It had been gone all week.

Kissing me deeply, and with a need that made me giddier than the wine, Harry's fingers slid under my panties. The soft brushing of his thumb over my nerves was heavenly; made better only by the slow push of two digits slipping into me.

"Can I taste you out here?" Harry asked as he touched my g-spot in such a way that I would have agreed to anything so long as he kept doing it.

"Oh fuck," I whispered with a nod, making brief but deep eye contact before his mouth left mine, and worked its way down the centre of my body to where his thumb had been.

Harry sat back down on the edge of his seat like he was about to dine on his main meal, and pulled my underwear to one side. Back arching up slightly off the solid wooden table, I grabbed at the edges and sighed blissfully as I felt a delicious, wet warmth engulfing my clit. Looking up at the stars through half-closed eyes as he worked his magic on me, a gentle breeze caressed my exposed breasts, causing goosebumps to ripple all over my skin. I felt so alive and so free. Contentment and satisfaction, unlike any I had ever experienced before, wrapped itself around my soul - and it wasn't only because of Harry and his skilful tongue.

Reaching down to sink my fingers into his hair, I rolled my hips and gently tugged at his soft, wavy locks, moving in sync with the rhythm of his fingers as they moved deep inside me. Pure pleasure began to unfurl from my core, tingling spreading out in waves to curl my toes and flush my cheeks a warm pink.

There was no rush to a release, no desire for sleep to end our night so that morning would take us back to our reality. Harry licked me slowly, only occasionally speeding up to take me closer to the edge, before switching back to long, languid laps. His free hand rested on my upper thigh before wandering up my body to touch and knead at my breasts, his fingertips circling a nipple in a pattern which matched that of his tongue. The simple, but erotic, act brought an orgasm that took me completely by surprise.

"Harry! I'm..." I began, but couldn't continue as my teeth sank into the back of my hand as I came.

Harry continued to eat me with renewed vigour, wave after wave of pleasure emptied my mind of all thoughts, my body trembling as I whimpered with every aftershock.

Limbs falling limp when he finally stopped, I let out a giggle and touched my cheek to feel its warmth. Pressing kisses over my pussy, Harry then stood up but kept two of his fingers inside me. He leant over me and we kissed - the taste of me still on his tongue, and the warmth of his chest burning through his shirt against my breasts. I held my breath as he slowly pulled his fingers free, but they were quickly replaced with the thickness of his cock. Suddenly every nerve ending in my body buzzed back to life having only barely recovered from one intense orgasm. The night air had cooled my skin, but a warm flush coursed through me, colouring my cheeks and decolletage, and forming a ball of heat in my stomach.

"Oh fuck, Lil!" Harry said, his voice strained as he sank into me fully. "You're so fucking tight."

Grabbing hold of his face, I kissed him deeply, awash in a sudden, overwhelming feeling of love and lust. Every thrust was so intense I almost wanted to scream, but aware of the silence of the countryside around us, I gasped and moaned into his parted lips instead.

"Feels... so... good..." It was getting harder and harder not to be more vocal, so I moved away from his kiss and pressed my forehead into the crook of his neck. "Don't stop!"

Harry pulled me up with him so that I was almost sitting upright; one hand against my curved lower back to hold me still while he fucked me, and the other lifting off the table to creep up the nape of my neck and sink into my hair. I clung to him as a second orgasm quickly approached, and my panted breaths fogged up the patch of skin where my mouth rested, as my legs wrapped around his waist.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I came for a second time; the intensity of the release was so extreme that as I went over the edge, I experienced the same lurch in my stomach I would get if I was about to jump from a tall cliff into a clear blue sea. Harry was quick to follow, muffling his cries against my bare shoulder, teeth lightly sinking into my skin, sending chills down my back and causing me to shiver against him. He came to a sudden stop and our lips searched for each other once again.

Kissing as our breathing returned to normal, and our desire settled for a moment, Harry's voice shook as he swore, "Fuck, that was so good."

Humming in blissful, hazy agreement, I lowered my legs so that Harry could step back. I glanced around at the mess on the floor, noticing that he'd been smart enough not to break the bottle of wine or our glasses. "I can't believe you broke all that stuff, Harry, you're such a bad boy."

Just as it had been earlier, his smile was cheeky, and a tiny bit guilty. "I told you, I'll pay for the damage. But first, I want to hear you tell me I'm a bad boy again."


	29. Movement

Upstairs in our room, I was quick to pull Harry onto the bed with me. He giggled as we kissed, his lips warm and wine-soaked. Holding onto his face, I lifted it away just enough so I could look at him properly. His nose was a little sunburnt from forgetting to put enough SPF on it when we had gone for a walk that morning, his facial hair was a golden brown from the sun, and there was a light sheen of perspiration forming on his brow from how warm the room was - despite the windows being open. His smile became self-conscious as I took him in, unsure if I would ever be able to put into words how much I loved him, or how breathtakingly beautiful I thought he was. 

"What?" he asked, coyly, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. 

"Nothing. It's just that I really love you, and…" With the courage of a considerable amount of wine behind me, I lightly scratched my nails through his beard and told him, "I think you might be my favourite person ever."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened in surprise as he gasped. The look of shock was just about enough to counteract the smugness. Just.

"Really!? I'm your favourite person?" 

"Mhmm!” I nodded with absolute certainty, but joked, “But if you tell anyone, I'll say you're a liar. Or that it's because I was drunk."

He laughed and sat up, kneeling between my parted legs. Taking off his shirt and throwing it onto the floor behind him, he then grinned. "You are drunk."

"Only a little bit." Sitting up, I pressed my face against his chest, trailing kisses all over as I put my hands on the curve of his behind. “But sober enough to know I mean it.”

"Am I your favourite more than, say, Rose?"

"Oh yeah," I giggled after grazing one of his nipples with my teeth, "I forgot about Rose! In that case, you're my second favourite person ever."

With a low, rumbling growl in his chest, Harry suddenly reached to grab my wrists, pushed me back down onto the bed, and pinned my hands above my head. Mouth aiming for the weak spot on my neck, he sucked and licked my flesh as he pressed a knee tight between my thighs. The feeling of his skin pushing against my heat brought a whimper to my lips, my eyes falling closed as I rocked my hips.

He chuckled when I moaned his name, asking, "I bet Rose has never made you feel like that."

"You don't know what we got up to in our Ibiza days," I replied with a dreamy sigh as his teeth sank into the sweet spot in the crook of my neck.

"Wait!" Head popping up, Harry looked at me, "Have you and her ever… y'know?"

The tingles between my legs faded, and for a horrible moment, I had flashbacks to Will's leering comments about fancying Rose and his suggestions of threesomes that he knew full well would never happen. Of course, with hindsight, I realised it was male bravado and acting in a way that he thought would hide his attraction to men, but a cold chill ran through me hearing Harry's question.

I shrugged and wriggled my hands free from under his grip. "No! I was joking!" 

"Oh good!" Harry chuckled, his now free hands moving to my chest and undoing the buttons on the front of my dress. "It's bad enough with you-know-who being around, but I'm man enough to admit that I could never compete with Rose."

I laughed out loud - half out of adoration for his confession and half with relief. I should have known he was better than that. "You and her are equally my favourite people.”

"That's more like it." Pulling apart the top of my dress, his mouth lowered back down to my collarbone; tongue dragging down to between my breasts. Kissing the patch of skin between them, he added, "Don't worry, I won't tell her that I'm ever so slightly ahead of her."

"Okay, Bighead, if that's what helps you sleep at night." 

I moaned as Harry's lips encircled one of my nipples, and realised that it was highly unlikely either one of us would be getting any sleep. As he cupped and kneaded my breasts, I reached down to undo the button and zipper on his trousers. Wrapping my fingers around his hard cock, his warm breath fanned across my skin as he groaned.

Pulling the hem of my dress up to around my waist, his ringless fingers raked up my thighs, working their way to my centre. My panties had already disappeared, so when he touched my pussy, he could instantly feel how wet I was. 

"Dirty, dirty, girl," he whispered, chuckling with satisfaction at my arousal and making me blush. Lips coming to meet mine, he teased my entrance with the tip of his cock. "You want me that much, hm?"

“Mhmm,” I nodded as Harry pushed into me fully, my mouth falling open and brow knitting together as he filled me for the second time that night.  
  
All my nerve-endings were quick to reawaken from earlier, pleasure spreading through my body and causing me to whimper against his cheek. The already warm room felt doubly humid under the weight of his body, skin on skin, and the close proximity bringing both our temperatures up, making us both perspire. We moved slowly at first, his cock sliding in deep, and making my cheeks burn as my orgasm almost instantly unfurled and built from - what felt like - deep within my very soul. I grasped at the back of his hair, moaning that he felt so good inside me, my legs bending as he spread them wider apart so that he could go even deeper. Every so often, our mouths would seek each other out - finding it unbearable to be apart for too long - and our breaths would mingle as our lips barely touched.

Stopping suddenly, he pulled out and flipped me over onto my stomach. I grasped hold of the bed covers and swore loudly into them as he dragged my hips up; fingers gripping them tightly as he sank back into my wetness with little resistance. I wanted to tell him how good he felt inside me, how this new position meant his cock rubbed against my G spot so deliciously that I couldn't find the strength to lift my upper body up off the bed, but it felt so intensely amazing that all I could do was whimper and whine with my flushed face against the sheets.

Harry's warmth enveloped me as he leant over to kiss my cheek, pushing himself in as deep as he could and filling me completely. 

"You okay, baby?" He mumbled, his lips pressed to my temple. 

"Mmhmm!" Nodding and semi-lost in a fog of lust and desire, I managed to reach for his hand on the bed next to me when he went to move away, "Wait. Don't move."

"What's wrong? Do you want me to st-"

"No," I whispered, "I just want to savour what you feel like before we have to go back to reality tomorrow."

Suddenly Harry was back over me again, his hot, sweaty body flush against my back while his fingers tangled with mine. I hummed with happiness and satisfaction and let my eyes fall to a half-close as he kissed my face. Feeling entirely wrapped up in him, I wanted to soak up every detail so that I could remember it during boring meetings when I hadn't seen him in person for weeks, for when he was away and my whole being ached for him to come home. Or - and this was likely to start happening more and more - when he and I were around other people who knew he and I were together, but we couldn't be as tactile or loving as we wanted to be. I wanted to keep the moment forever so I could remember our perfect week together, like a single pressed rose to remind oneself of a beautiful bouquet.

With a quiet grunt, Harry mumbled, "I need to move, baby." I wordlessly nodded my head, relieved that he only moved away a little bit when he started to roll his hips gently. Hooking his arms under mine, he pulled my upper body up with him as he whispered in my ear, "Come with me."

Up on my knees, straddling his lap, with my back leaning against his chest, I rocked back and forth on his cock, my head falling onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, holding me close, while his other hand snaked its way up over and between my breasts to curve his long, slender fingers around the base of my throat. His strokes were measured and slow, hitting deep enough that I could barely form a coherent thought in my head. The closeness of our bodies and the warmth in the room brought sweat prickling to our skin, and I felt it tickle me as it ran down my back. 

He grazed my earlobe with his teeth, making me moan loudly. Turning my head to look at him, I whined, "Harry, fuck me."

Applying just a little more pressure around my throat so that I clenched tightly around his cock, he asked, "Is that what you want, baby?"

The hand on my waist started to creep down over my tummy, to between my thighs, until his middle finger rested on my clit so that it moved with the rhythm of every thrust he made. 

The room was filled with our moans and groans, the air peppered with dirty words of encouragement, and panted 'I love you's. Closing my eyes, I saw my climax come into view, feeling it fully unfurl from deep within, always amazed by the way Harry pulled pleasure from me in the most indescribable way. 

As my head fell forward, the hand around my throat moved down to my chest, holding me up and steady as I gasped, "Fuck! I'm going to come!"

Leaning forward and planting my hands on the bed, I trembled as Harry continued to fuck me - his pace picking up so that I kept coming way after the initial big drop. My thoughts became a jumble, and I struggled to keep my body upright, completely awash in how incredible I felt. 

As my orgasm began to subside, Harry leant forward, too - his warmth returning to me as he placed a hand on top of mine, where the other grasped at my breast. Moments later, swearing as my walls gripped onto him tightly, and his moaning breaths hot against my neck, he came.

Movements becoming sloppy as he pushed into me deeply, he then stopped suddenly when he became too sensitive. 

"Fuck!" he chuckled, lifting up his head and rubbing his eyes. "I honestly went blind for a split-second, I just saw stars."

“Is it weird that I think you sound really hot when you come?” I giggled, reaching behind to touch the back of his head, feeling how damp with sweat his hair was.

“Oh, you are absolutely filled with compliments tonight, Ms James.” 

"I can't help it!"

His face reappeared close to mine, a breathy kiss skimming my shoulders as he asked, "And why's that?"

I turned my head towards him, admiring his jawline, the blush colour of his pouted lips, and the delicate way his lashes rested on his cheeks. "Because I am head over heels in love with you, Mr Styles."

Head popping up, Harry’s eyes met mine, and as always, my heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was post-coitus bliss, maybe it was the heat, or it could well have just been the wine - whatever it was, I felt more comfortable than ever to express how much I loved and adored him. I was completely and utterly love-drunk, and from the way he looked at me before kissing me deeply, I suspected Harry felt exactly the same.

**-**

After catching our breath, we headed straight for the shower to cool ourselves down and to get rid of the sticky, sweatiness we both felt from our activities. Feeling much cooler - and slightly peckish - we then lay in bed, naked, eating the strawberries and fresh cream we’d intended to have for dessert.

“You’re my favourite person, too, by the way,” Harry said, doing his best to sound casual as he slipped a strawberry into his mouth.

“I am?” I asked. Mouth full, he chewed and confidently nodded. I wasn’t entirely sure why his statement had taken me by surprise, but I was thrilled he felt the same as I did. Gently, I touched his thigh. “Aw! Thank you, baby.”

Looking at each other with dopey grins, head over heels in love, I didn’t want the night to end. Somehow, Harry had managed to top the birthday he and I had spent together that had ended up changing my life. The week had been how I wanted our lives to be; knowing that no matter how chaotic real life became, we could still escape together and lose ourselves in each other, and fall further in love. 

“What a happy coincidence, eh?” he said after swallowing his bite.

“Well, I won’t tell Jeff if you don’t tell Rose.” I dipped a particularly chunky strawberry into some cream and sugar, before making Harry eat it. Juice ran down his chin and he giggled as he quickly wiped it before it dripped down onto his bare chest or the bed. As I thought about licking said juice off his chest had it landed there, I sighed, “Can we just give up our real lives and stay here? Buy a farm or something. Live off the land.”

Harry chuckled, “I can’t believe big city girl Layla James has found her country feet after all. I’m even more excited to get you into some wellies now.”

“Hey! My grandparents lived in the country, remember. I just prefer the buzz of a city. However, if you’re lucky, I might wear a padded body-warmer with my wellies...” Leaning towards him, I added in a low, husky whisper, “... in forest green.”

Quickly, the bowls were moved off of the bed, and he was leaning over me with a mischievous smile as I settled back against the pillows. “Keep talking, keep talking.”

“Jodhpurs, tucked into my wellies. Or maybe some riding boots.”

“Oh yeah.” Moaning, Harry nodded his head, his arm draping over my stomach so his fingers could caress under my breast. 

“Oh, you like that?” I asked. “How about; a purple zip-up fleece.”

“Worn under the body-warmer? With a shirt?”

“Of course. Long-sleeved and the collar would be popped up, too.”

“Don’t stop! I’m close!” He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning loudly as his head fell backwards in convincing ecstasy. I tried to whisper the words ‘pearl necklace’, but erupted into giggles, pulling him into my arms as he laughed. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an idiot?” I mumbled, my lips pressing to his warm temple. 

“You started it! But, I’ve been told surprisingly less times than you’d think.” Turning his head quickly, Harry’s kiss sought mine, his body moving to settle between my parting thighs. “Don’t blame me that I suddenly can’t help thinking about you as the lady of the manor.”

“Is this your way of asking me to roleplay with you? Are you going to be my stable boy? Or my driver?”

Grinning against my lips, he chuckled, “Maybe. And if it were, I'd be your driver.”

**-**

We had sex one more time, before finally conceding to our need to sleep. In a few hours, we would have to get up and go be with other people, back to our lives and the people we loved. As we settled on separate parts of the bed, with only our feet touching, I let my mind wander, waiting for sleep to take me.

I was looking forward to giving Stan cuddles, and I was missing my friends. I was even looking forward to getting back to work! But I’d gotten used to being around Harry all of the time, and I was going to miss him being the only person I spoke to in the day, cooking and having dinner with him, and hearing him playing his guitar and singing, repeating the same melody and humming it to himself as he scribbled words down in his notebook. 

One day, he'd worked on a song so frequently that I found myself humming it as we brushed our teeth before bed. He of course had loved that, spitting toothpaste into the sink before asking me with a smirk, "Like that one, do you?"

Spitting out the paste in my own mouth and rinsing it out with water, I ran my toothbrush under the tap before placing it next to his. "I do, yeah. The melody is pretty. Catchy."

"Oh good."

"Y’know, Harry, I think maybe you should do this songwriting lark for a living,” I teased. “You might be good at it!"

He’d let out a laugh, coming to stand behind me and pressing a minty kiss on my shoulder. "I'm trying."

The time away together had done exactly what we’d hoped it would - it had brought us back to the new beginning we’d truly wanted. As I drifted off to sleep, it was a nice thought to know that although we wouldn’t be together all day every day anymore, we would still be together. We were going back to reality, but reality meant going to see his mum in Holmes Chapel, it meant him coming to an event I was going to be hosting with one of his best friends, and it meant us spending Christmas together with my family before him being my plus one at Rose and Dee’s wedding. Our lives were becoming interwoven, that was our new reality, and I liked the feel of it. 

\---

Loading things into the boot of the car the following morning, I couldn’t deny feeling a tinge of sadness about leaving. I’d been presenting Harry with a pretty solid argument for giving up the city life and moving to Italy, but he was having none of it. 

“Can we come back?” I asked, taking one last look at the view, soaking up the sun and the details of our time there.

Harry came to stand behind me; his arms wrapping around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "Of course, if you want to."

"So, that's a maybe for Umbria as a wedding destination, then, yeah?"

His hold on me tightened as I giggled, his lips moving to kiss my neck. “Don’t even joke about it, James, or I might take you seriously.”

Twisting around in his arms, turning so I could look at him, I took in the most beautiful view of all. I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the loose, linen shirt he wore, and gazed up at him. He hadn’t shaved the entire time we’d been away, and his facial hair had a golden colour to it which was highlighted by the sun. 

As he lowered his head to kiss me, I quietly told him, “Who said I was joking?”


	30. Street

"Nervous?" Harry asked, smiling at me from the driver's seat as we drove from Manchester Airport to Holmes Chapel.

Swallowing hard and fiddling with the leather strap of my handbag, I weakly answered, "Well... I'd be lying if I said no."

He reached out a hand to give my thigh a reassuring squeeze, but despite his cool demeanour, I could sense nerves from him, too. "You'll be fine."

I knew he was right; Anne and I had gotten along the last time we had met, and we'd both agreed to lay our previous grievances to bed, but none of that made the butterflies in my tummy ease up. Every time we met, I felt how important it was to Harry that she and I got on. With Will, he'd quite liked that I was everything his mother wasn't and what she hadn't wanted for his wife, but I knew that Harry wanted nothing more than for Anne and I to be close.

He started to tap the steering wheel with his thumbs as we neared the exit off the motorway, checking his mirrors as he moved into the lane he needed.

"So! Will there be time for a tour? Or will that have to wait for another time?" Looking out of the window as we left the motorway and the road became smaller, I felt a familiar comfort from the passing countryside.

The signs for Liverpool as we'd left the airport had made my stomach churn. Being close enough to see signs for the city that held the most traumatic times of my youth had brought up anxiety I hadn't expected to feel, but it had eased when we'd driven in the opposite direction. Passing flat fields, soft hills, and catching occasional glimpses of the river, a nicer set of childhood memories began to pop into my head.

"If you need to get back to work the day after tomorrow then we won't have time for a tour," Harry replied, breaking my thoughts, "but next time we come up I'll show you everything."

"Sounds good." Smiling as I saw a sign that confirmed my suspicions, I asked, "Hey, do you know Goostrey well?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, it's about a ten-minute drive from Holmes Chapel. Why?"

"My grandparents lived there." Harry's head snapped around in shock, the car swerving slightly until I quickly regained control. "Sorry, maybe that was bad timing."

"You just took me by surprise, that's all!" Voice animated, I was surprised he was so... excited. "Why didn't you say something before now?!"

"I could barely remember what the village was called until Bianca said it when I saw her, and I hadn't gotten around to looking up where it was.

"Do you want to go?" Harry asked, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, "Because we have plenty of time, and Mum won't mind even if we're a little late."

I hesitated long enough for Harry to make my decision for me. He drove through the village he still called home, and once we reached the end of the high street the indicator clicked to signal we were heading in the direction of Goostrey.

My mother's parents lived in a big house that felt like a mansion to me, especially when compared to the tiny flat we lived in. I remember dark, wooden beams and a fireplace that my grandfather would make toast in the morning to go with the scrambled eggs my grandmother cooked on the aga. The furniture was stiff, the tapestry-like fabric on the three-piece suite rough against my skin, and I'd be fascinated by paintings of extravagant bouquets on the walls that were dull yet bright and richly coloured all at the same time.

As I got older, and Paula strayed further down the wrong path, our visits became even less frequent, so, while Harry and I drove through the village, I didn't recognise anything at first. There were a lot of new houses, and I was just starting to wonder if maybe it was the correct village name, but the wrong location, when I saw something that made me want to bawl with joy.

"That's it!" I gasped, pointing to a small, local post office that doubled as the local convenience store. It was more modern than it had been, but I recognised the building, and could vividly remember playing on the railings outside. "Those railings! I'd wait by them while grandad got his paper, and he'd always buy jelly babies or chocolate limes, which we'd share on the walk back home."

Harry swerved the car to the left, pulling over and parking outside the shop. The signs had changed and so had the people working behind the small counter, but it was the right place.

"Do you want to go get some sweets?" he asked, stroking the back of my neck.

Bottom lip wobbling, I shook my head and tried not to cry. I wasn't upset, I was happy, but despite the overwhelming emotion, I was fully aware that I didn't want my eyes to be puffy and red when we arrived at Anne's. I was also aware that if I started to cry that I wouldn't be able to stop for the rest of the day.

"Do you remember where their house was?" Starting the engine, he turned the music off completely as it burst back into life. I nodded that I did. "Do you want to go look? See if you recognise it?"

"It should be just a little further down," I pointed ahead, "my little legs felt like it was miles, but it probably wasn't even that far."

"Aww! A tiny Layla!" Harry's grin was infectious and I giggled as he pinched my cheeks before pulling out onto the road. "We'll find it."

Leaning out of my seat, I craned my neck to see if I recognised anything or could spot some kind of landmark; a front door, a tree or even a dip in the pavement for the driveway. Harry drove slowly but there were new houses throughout the village, so I was half expecting that theirs was maybe no longer visible from the main road. I wasn't even sure if it looked the same, Bianca hadn't mentioned any changes, but then she hadn't even been born the last time I'd visited.

Silently, I reached out and lightly tapped Harry's arm. Turning to look at me, and seeing my expression, he pulled over again so that he could take a look at the house I was staring at, open-mouthed and watery-eyed. He lowered his window down so it was fully open, then turned the car off so all we could hear was the occasional rustle of leaves and birdsong.

"Is that it?" He asked, reaching his hand behind so he could grab a hold of mine and squeeze it reassuringly. I was glad he hadn't looked at me when he asked.

Voice barely a whisper, I replied, "Yeah... that's it. The door's the same colour and everything."

Our little detour had suddenly become much more serious. I leant back against the car door and exhaled a shaky breath. I hadn't seen that house in well over twenty years, since before my mother got caught further in all of the things that ended up killing her, before my sister was born, and long before I ran away and kept running. If only I'd known; if only I'd been brave enough to look that little bit harder, I might have been able to get out of the car and see my grandmother while she was still alive.

Happy memories were being replaced with regret, and the urge to cry was becoming harder to fight. I couldn't breathe properly.

"Can we go?"

Turning in his seat, Harry looked at me with surprise, as though he'd expected me to want to stay longer. I could easily call Bianca and tell her my discovery; see if she was available to come and meet us, and we could go into the house together. But I wasn't quite ready to take that next step. As long as I didn't go into that house - to find it cold, eerie, and empty - there was a part of me that could pretend my grandparents were still there.

"Don't you want to have a look around?" he suggested, as I knew he would. I shook my head and put my seatbelt back on to make my point. "Are you sure? Maybe we could come back tomorrow?"

"I don't want to right now. Maybe tomorrow, but for now let's just go and see your mum." My voice was shaking, but I felt quite determined that I didn't want to investigate further. Not yet.

As we drove away and I could feel Harry's eyes darting between the road and me, making sure I was okay, I felt calmness returning. By the time we were driving back through Holmes Chapel, I was even thinking of what a nice coincidence it was that my happiest childhood memories had taken place so close to where Harry called home. Clarity was returning; I knew where the house was now, so I could easily go back when I felt a little more prepared, and when I could get the keys from Bianca, but for the moment I only wanted to focus on Harry and on hopefully getting to know Anne better. If anything, seeing that house, and knowing all that I had missed, only made me more encouraged and excited to get to know Harry's family with the hope that one day they would also be mine.

-

Anne was at the door as soon as we drove up the driveway, gravel crunching under the wheels of the car and giving away our arrival. Harry and I got out of the car, still laughing from my telling him how my grandad would turn the volume down on his hearing aid so that he couldn't hear my grandmother tell him off for something he had or hadn't done, before then just nodding or shaking his head behind his newspaper. It always worked until he nodded at the wrong time. The long-forgotten memory suddenly popping into my head had been a welcome distraction as we neared Anne's.

"Hi, Mum." Mother and son hugged each other warmly, she then cupped his face and kissed his cheeks while he scrunched up his eyes in embarrassment.

"You look well-rested," Anne said with a loving smile. "Even with this scruffy beard."

After a few seconds of looking at her baby with a look of motherly adoration as Harry pulled away - playfully offended she didn't approve of his holiday facial fuzz - she turned to me. Arms outstretched, she walked the few short steps and greeted me with a genuine warmth I was hoping for but not expecting.

"Hello sweetheart," she beamed. Hugging me, Anne then linked her arm with mine and led me into the house, leaving Harry to bring our bags inside. "How was the journey? You're here earlier than I thought!"

"Amazingly, there wasn't any traffic outside the airport, and Harry's driving is... questionable, sometimes," I laughed.

She chuckled and nodded, rolling her eyes. "I keep telling him he needs to be more careful!"

We travelled through the house into the kitchen, and Anne gestured for me to take a seat, but after the long journey of sitting down, and all of the excitement of the detour, I stayed standing. "You have such a lovely home. Oh, and a cat!"

A black and white cat sauntered in, trying to act like it wasn't coming to have a nose at the new person in its home (and if this cat was anything like Stan, then it was probably excited about Harry being there.)

"That's Dolly," Anne replied, filling the kettle with water to make tea. "The others are around, somewhere. I'm sure they'll come clamber all over you once we're sitting down."

I crouched down and held out my hand, but Dolly gave me one look and headed back out of the kitchen. Standing up, I buried my rejection and hoped it wasn't an indication of how the visit would go.

"Nothing stings more than a cat refusing fusses," I sighed, standing up. "Would you like a hand with anything?"

Anne shook her head with a smile, "You're fine, sweetheart, thank you. I thought we'd sit outside as it's such a lovely day."

"After being in a plane and a car, that sounds great."

"I bet. Is Harry coming in?"

Realising that we were alone and Harry hadn't followed us inside, there was a moment of awkwardness, despite our attempts to be comfortable with each other. I didn't know why he hadn't followed us, I'd half expected him to be by my side the entire time to make sure everything went smoothly, but his disappearing act felt intentional.

"I think he mentioned wanting to call Jeff?" I suggested, hazarding a guess.

"Is everything okay with you both, now? Not to pry, and she didn't go into detail, but Gemma mentioned you and him had fallen out?" She quickly added, "Feel free to tell me to mind my own business."

I didn't entirely feel comfortable divulging the details, however, I also didn't want to give the impression that I wasn't interested in being open with her. "Yeah, we're fine, thank you. Getting away was exactly what we needed to clear the air. The invasion of privacy got to me for a moment, but Gemma helped make me see sense."

"Good!" Pausing arranging mugs onto a tray to lean both hands on the massive, square, kitchen island, Anne looked me in the eye. "It's definitely an adjustment, and it's perfectly understandable that you've found it difficult. I still struggle sometimes!"

"I'm hoping that me disappearing for a week means they'll have gotten bored with showing up outside my house and work." Grimacing, I could hear Harry's voice out in the hallway as he made a fuss of the cat. "Rose said there have been less people, and I made sure not to tell anyone where Harry and I were going."

Joel's warning for me to keep my cards close to my chest had sat with me on the drive home from my dog walk with Will. I couldn't put my finger on why, but even though it was something I was already going to do, hearing him say it only reinforced my intentions. He could have been giving me a big, fat red herring to make me think he hadn't been responsible for the leak, but there was a part of me that couldn't imagine him hurting me that way. I couldn't imagine him as being _that_ malicious. Regardless, when Harry emailed me - rather than called - with the details of where we were going, I kept the information to myself. I didn't even tell Rose.

Harry strolled into the kitchen with Dolly curled up in his arms like a baby, purring loudly. He paused for a second, looking between Anne and me with a glint in his eye that was pure joy.

Coming over to kiss me on the lips, he then noticed his mother's tray of mugs. "Mum, you won't believe what happened on the way here. We're going to need something a little stronger."

-

"You're joking?!" Dee asked, her hand touching Rose's arm - whose mouth was also agape - as I told them both about Harry having grown up ten minutes away from my grandparents' house.

Still in shock myself, I shook my head incredulously, "I swear to God. Ten minutes."

"That's... that's insane!" Rose raised her hands to her head and gestured as though her mind was exploding. "Did you get to go inside? Bianca has access, doesn't she?"

Thinking of how cold my sister had been on the phone, and how uninterested she'd been by my discovery, I felt a chill run through my chest. "No. I mean; no, I didn't go in, but yes she has the keys. Bianca was busy and it was a bit late notice, but Harry and I are going to go see Anne before Christmas, so I've said to Bianca we'll go and see her, too. I can get a copy of the key then."

A perfectly shaped eyebrow quirking up, Rose asked, "You're going to Liverpool?"

"Mhmm. I think it's time, and I'm hoping it might fix how... off things feel with Bianca." My two best friends shared a glance that I knew to mean they were suspicious of my sister's sudden coldness after the newspaper fiasco. "I know what you're thinking, and I know that neither one of you has wanted to say it, but I just can't believe she'd betray me like that. It wasn't her, I just know it."

"What else would she be giving you the cold shoulder for then, eh?"

Dee reached out to touch her fiancee's arm, encouraging her to go easy on me. "Rose, don't."

"What? I'm just being honest," Rose replied with a shrug before looking at me. "If you know what we're thinking, then why should I lie and deny it? I know you're excited that she's turned up, and I can't imagine how shitty it must be to think that it could be your own flesh and blood, but if it was anyone else but her, you'd be suspicious as fuck, Layla, and you know it."

"There was a lot of stuff I told her, and I always knew there was a chance she'd hate me when I told her the truth." Clearing my throat as emotion constricted it, I barely believed what was coming out of my mouth. "She either just needs some time to process everything, or..."

"Or she's distancing herself away from you out of guilt," she said quietly, avoiding my eye.

My stomach ached at the thought, anxiety gnawing at me as I thought of Bianca hating me enough to do something so awful in such a public way. I knew she was a grown woman, and not just that, she was a mother, too, but I couldn't help but imagine the little purple-eyed baby I'd had placed in my arms only a few hours after she was born.

"Lil, what my darling future wife is trying to say, and doing so terribly at-" Dee flashed Rose a hard glare that caused her to clamp her mouth shut and realise that maybe she'd been a little too harsh in her want to protect me "-is that we only want you to be cautious. All the clues _do_ seem to point to her, and I'm going to guess you haven't even asked her about it?"

"How do I ask her that, Dee? How do I ask her when everything is so rocky with us as it is? If I ask her that, I run the risk of losing her completely."

"But do you honestly want her around if she could do that to you?" Rose spoke up, shifting forward so that she could place a hand on my knee. "Yours and Harry's privacy was violated on a day when you were grieving for one of your closest friends! Can you really forgive that?"

"No! Of course I can't, and that's why I can't even begin to accept that it was her. If I do that and I ask her, and she confesses... I... I'll have to walk away and lose her all over again." Sighing heavily, I let my shoulders sag. "I have to completely rule out everyone else first."

My two friends exchanged another look as if I couldn't see them. They'd tried, but I was being stubborn and pig-headed, they may as well just save their breath. That's what they seemed to be saying, and they weren't wrong.

Dee was quick to steer the conversation back to something else, asking how the visit to see Anne had gone. Swallowing hard, I nodded and forced a smile, thinking about how lovely the time with Harry and his mother had been. Her home was filled with warmth and love, and best of all, cats! I completely understood why it felt like a safe-haven to Harry.


	31. Latch

No matter how many times I checked, re-checked, then checked again that everything was as it should be, I always got nervous before events. I would the whole journey to the venue, imagining arriving to find the building ablaze, that all my staff hadn't turned up, and/or that the client hated everything. Driving to the venue for Nick Grimshaw's event, I thought I was going to be sick. There was definitely added pressure knowing that for the first time, Harry was going to be attending a Layla-Rose event (I flat out refused to count the party Rose had planned for Will as one of ours because that had him all over it).

It wasn't only Harry being there as I worked, it was the fact that most people there would know that he and I were an item, and we hadn't actually been out socially in public yet. What fully sent the butterflies in my tummy through the roof was his casual mention over the phone at lunchtime that had I not come to Will's party, this was going to be his Plan B to see me again. It was no coincidence that the venue happened to be the same bar Harry and I first met.

"How do you know that I wouldn't have got Vicky to cover me when you accepted the invitation?" I'd asked, glad he couldn't witness my face as my cheeks flushed for some unknown reason. 

Harry had laughed mischievously, "I was just going to turn up unannounced. That part was Nick's idea."

His determination to get in a room with me again was undeniably sweet, and once again I felt grateful that he'd been braver than me to put himself out on the line for the sake of our relationship. However, I was glad things had worked out as they had because I couldn't imagine how I'd have coped with Bianca showing up and losing Terry had he not been there by my side. There was even a minute part of me that wondered if maybe - knowing that he'd wanted to see me - _I_ would have ended up calling the number marked with a bit red X in my phone first; calling on him when I needed him the most.

**-**

Harry and Nick arrived together, and while Nick waved hello to people he knew, Harry's gaze swept the room until he spotted me. He looked at me long enough for us to exchange a smile, before turning his attention to friends.

I'd thought we were being casual and nonchalant until Rose whispered to me behind her clipboard, "So, are you two doing that thing where you pretend not to know each other? Kinky roleplay?"

Gently tapping the board she hid her face behind so it hit her nose with a soft thud, I frowned, feeling my cheeks grow warm like someone being teased about their crush. “We’re not doing roleplay, Rosemary. Dee's DJing tonight, are you going to be doing that thing where you and her pretend not to know each other?”

"Touche, James. Touché." 

"We're going to remain… professional," I replied, biting back a smile as Harry's eyes met mine once again. 

My friend chuckled, lovingly rolling her eyes. "Okay, well you both need to work harder on not looking at each other every thirty seconds. You both look like a couple of heart-eyed emojis."

"You're not being helpful. Also, it's not like it's a secret, is it? I simply want to act like this is any other event."

"When actually you wanna go and snog your bo-o-o-yfriend!" Rose sang, moving the clipboard as I went to knock it again, and lifting it up to lightly hit the top of my head. "If you want to go see him, then do it! Bugger whatever anyone says or thinks. Nick’s hardly going to mind, is he?"

Glancing at my phone in my hand, I noticed a message from Harry telling me I looked hot in my little black dress and that he couldn't wait to get me out of it later. I shoved the phone back in my bag, suddenly feeling terribly warm. "Later. I want to at least *behave like I’m not bothered he's here."

**-**

Despite my words of insistence, it was hard not to get distracted by Harry's presence. I did my best to throw myself into working, staying behind the scenes, and avoiding going too close to wherever he was when I did venture out onto the floor.

The only time I did pass by him - on route to answer a call for help from Rose over the headsets - I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel him watching as I raced past. It struck me as oddly amusing that I was so concerned with not appearing too eager to be close to him (which I definitely was) that I was behaving precisely as I would have had we still not been talking. However, after Italy, I was experiencing a whole new level of love for him, so it had to be all or nothing.

I found Rose crouching down behind the bar that wasn’t in use, phone in hand with the torch on, and rummaging through our array of plastic boxes in search of something.

“‘Sup?” I asked, stepping up onto the foot-rail and hiking myself up to lean over the bar.

“Hey. Where did you put our emergency kit? And does it still have a sewing kit or safety pins? We’ve got a broken dress strap in the ladies' that's leaving one of our guests with a breezy left boob.”

“It’s in one of the pink tote bags. Ironically, I'd thought it would be easier to find in a bag instead of a box.” I refrained from adding that I’d told her this information three times already. “There should still be, unless Vicky took it out. It’s in that little cubbyhole behind where the boxes were, maybe it got pushed to the back.”

Rose’s head disappeared as she reached into the narrow space, and I heard from behind me, “Oh hello!” Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Harry taking a long, admiring look at my behind, a mischievous glint in his eye. “This temptation is too much.”

“Got it!” Rose cried, causing Harry to jump when she popped up, holding the tote bag aloft, triumphantly. As I reached out to take the bag, she said with a smirk that suggested she’d heard what he’d said, “Alright, Harry?”

He blushed as he muttered a hello in return, approaching the bar and standing a little way away from me. While he feigned waiting to order a drink despite there being nobody there to serve him, I winked at Rose and asked her, “Do you want me to go deal with this?”

“No, I can do it.” Her voice was laden with suggestion as she glanced at Harry, then at me. “You stay here.”

“Well, shout if you need anything.”

Rose gave me a thumbs-up as she disappeared in the direction of the ladies’ toilets. Dropping back down so my feet were on the floor, I noticed Harry moving closer to me.

“I should have known you were talking to someone,” he shook his head with embarrassment, laughing. “I was just so mesmerised by the view.”

“Pervert,” I chuckled. 

Glancing down at my clipboard, I watched as he reached for my pen, and drew a heart in the corner of my copy of the paperwork, writing ‘H.S’ above it, and ‘L.J’ underneath. Our eyes met, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him for being so adorable.

“So,” he said, dropping my pen down, and turning to lean his elbow on the bar, “are you avoiding me, James?”

“No, Styles,” I replied, drawing dainty hearts next to his name on the guest list, sensing him moving even closer until his chest pressed against my arm. “I’m working.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Are you having fun, though?”

“I am, thank you.” The hand he'd been resting on the bar moved, and he subtly stroked his index finger up and down my forearm. “I’d be having more fun if we were here together, and if you stopped ignoring me.”

Dropping all pretence that I was working, I turned my body to face his. "I told you, baby, I'm not ignoring you, I'm doing my job. You can't go one whole evening without my undivided attention?"

"Nope!" Harry grinned and shook his head, and for a moment I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me. I was disappointed when he didn't.

It was getting harder and harder with each passing second not to touch him, especially when he was standing so close and looking at me like he was moments from giving in to the temptation he’d spoken about. As his gaze wandered over my face and down to my chest, I felt breathless with the desire I couldn’t act on, and I had to stop myself from telling him to put me on the bar and devour me.

Casting an eye over the party to make sure nobody was watching us - we were in a quiet part of the bar, away from everyone else, but I still wanted to be sure. "And here I was thinking you'd find it kind of sexy watching me working.”

Harry’s low, devilish chuckle brought my attention back to him, “Oh, I do. That’s why I want your attention. You and your headset and clipboard, that dress, and being the boss - it’s doing it for me.” Leaning forward, he put his mouth to my ear and muttered; “I just want us to go out into the garden so I can kiss you like I wanted to that night we met. Maybe I'll slip my hand under your skirt this time, too.”

I remembered the mental image of Harry's hand on my knee on the night we met; first to stop me from leaving while he spoke to Niall and Liam, and then he'd moved it further up. His palm had settled on my thigh, fingers splayed as they curved around the shape of my leg, his chunky rings warm against my skin. He'd told me once that he'd been able to feel my heat, and that it had taken everything in him not to slide his hand up further. Recalling how I'd been torn between slapping him and spreading my legs, a breathy sigh left my lips, and I felt momentarily lightheaded. 

“Baby, you’re so mean,” I groaned, lightly pushing him away, but only because I wanted an excuse to put my hand on his warm chest. “Right! I need to go back to work, because you can’t behave.”

He placed a hand on mine and laughed, looking thoroughly satisfied to have gotten me all hot and bothered. I couldn’t remember if he’d been such a menace when we first got together, but this time around he definitely was!

Grinning, Harry tried to look innocent as he said, “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. We’ll see how much you love me when I get my own back.”

“We had sex backstage at the first show you came to!” he laughed, letting go of my hand so I could try and put a professional distance between us. “I think we’re more than even now.”

We both jumped when we heard Nick Grimshaw’s unmistakable voice, “Eurgh! Get a room, you two!”

Cheeks warm, I took another step away from Harry, feeling like I was a teenager who’d just been caught snogging behind the bike sheds. Rose stood with Nick, giggling behind her hand whilst doing her best to act disgusted by mine and Harry’s public display of pretty-tame-affection. I knew for a fact they’d both witnessed us being far more lovey-dovey, but I wasn't about to stand there and argue.

I picked up my pen and clipboard, and made a swift exit with Rose, trying to slow my racing heart. As embarrassed as I was, I was just glad it was only Rose and Nick who’d caught us. 

**-**

As the night came to a close, and all the guests left, I’d expected Harry to leave with his friends, and meet me at home. Instead, - despite being a little drunk - he hung around, chatting with Dee, and even helping Rose carry our boxes out to my car (which was thankfully parked out back so we wouldn't have to worry about any cameras if any paparazzi were hanging around) while I made sure the staff were going to get home safe. 

“I hate to admit it,” Rose muttered, putting on her jacket after nudging me to look at Harry and Dee deep in conversation about music, “but, he’s growing on me.” Wordlessly, I looked at her with impressed surprise, trying not to give away that fireworks of happiness had just gone off in my chest. She emphasised, “Growing. Grow-ing. He's still got a way to go before I fully accept him, Lil.”

She was always friendly, and to those who didn’t know her better, it appeared like she had no problem with him at all, but I knew better. I knew she was keeping Harry somewhat at arm's length in case he reverted to his old ways, because although she presented herself as having a tough exterior, she was far more sensitive underneath it all, and she didn’t allow people in with ease. Rose would let Harry in as her friend when she was ready, but it gave me great joy to know that she was slowly getting closer to that point.

“I know.”

“I mean, look at Will. How long has it taken for me to forgive him for being a total shitbag?” 

“I want you to be friends, of course I do. But I’m not going to force it,” I shrugged, rooting around my handbag for my car keys before remembering that Harry had them. “You can be civil and there’s no awkwardness, and that’s good enough for the moment.” 

Pausing, we watched from afar as Dee excitedly imparted some of her insanely vast musical knowledge on Harry with a fact relating to whatever they were discussing, and his tipsy reaction was like she'd told him the secret to the universe. (Dee's brain was like a music encyclopedia, which helped in her job as a DJ for ‘Radio 6’. She outwitted Terry on several occasions - much to his delight - and was excellent for pub quizzes!) I loved knowing that he didn't need me around to feel comfortable with my friends, it was important that he grew to regard them as his friends too, and not just people he hung around with because I did.

The bar manager started to turn out lights as the bar's own staff poured out from the back, bringing mine and Rose's attention back to the fact that we needed to leave, too. 

"He fits, though, doesn't he? With us?" I asked as we went to join our chatting beloveds.

"He does," Rose replied, "or at least he will do when the stuff with William is sorted."

**-**

Harry’s wandering hands and lustful whispers caused the drive home to be an almost impossible task. What made it worse, was that I would have found it far easier to bat away his creeping fingers as they moved up my inner thigh, if I hadn’t really wanted him to keep going. 

But, as it was, I told him, “Keep your mitts to yourself until we get home, please,” whilst telling myself it would not be worth the risk of putting my foot down and getting back to the house quicker.

“I just want to touch you,” Harry mumbled, pulling at the collar of my thin cardigan until it came off my shoulder, and he could press his pouted lips to the patch of skin he’d revealed. “Don’t you want me to?”

With a feeling of deep injustice, I groaned. The last five minutes of the journey were passing like the car was driving through treacle, and I wanted nothing more than to just part my legs and have him ease the aching need I felt. Why didn’t I have a garage like he did in L.A., so we could get hot and heavy in the car as soon as the door closed behind us?

Parking on the driveway, we both scrambled to get out of the car, eager to get inside. Harry pressed himself close to my back while I struggled to get the door open. Lips scorching my skin as his hands wandered over my body, I fought his distractions, but finally gave in to lust. Letting my house keys sit halfway in the lock, I wheeled around and sought Harry's awaiting alcohol-soaked lips. Pushing him back against the navy blue tiled wall, I kissed him hard and hungry, and let my palm wander down from his chest, over his stomach, and to his crotch - feeling his hard cock and being rewarded with a throaty groan when my fingers brushed over it.

"I need you." Hips pushing forward against my hand, he told me, "I've needed you all night."

Putting my multi-tasking skills to the test, I resumed our kiss whilst using one hand to stroke his erection, and using the other to return to opening the door. When the door finally swung open, he rushed me inside, pushing me forward in the direction of the stairs.

"I have to feed Stan," I sighed, absentmindedly; thoughts distracted by Harry's mouth on my neck and his persuasive hands as they roamed over my curves. "He's still angry with me for going away so much recently."

"Come upstairs and let me fuck you in this dress," he whispered, "and I promise I will feed Stan afterwards."

It was highly unlikely if we went upstairs that either one of us would be coming back down again for a while, but I was finding it hard to think of an alternative to such a tempting offer. 

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Reaching for his hand, I pulled him with me and we raced up the stairs to my room. Harry led me straight over to the bed, sitting on the edge so that I stood before him. As he lifted his head to gaze up at me with slightly out-of-focus eyes, a dark lock of hair flopped down onto his forehead, making him look a little dishevelled. 

"This is it," he mumbled with a smile, "this is what I wanted with you."

I ran my fingers through the dark curls on his head, wondering for a second if, rather than sex, what my drunken beloved needed was some water and sleep. "What do you mean, baby?"

"I wanted this; being in the same places as you, not caring that everyone knows we're together, leaving for home with each other. I want normality with you - well, as normal as my life can be."

"Not sure how I feel about just being 'normal'?" I laughed.

"No! Lil-" Harry pulled me onto the bed, and as I lay down, he moved to lean over me, "-you're perfect, this night has been perfect. I got to see you at work, my friends think you're wonderful, and I think Dee might be a musical genius. And now, we're coming home to have sex because I've wanted you all fucking night."

"Also, Rose told me you're growing on her!" 

"She did?!" he gasped, making me giggle.

"Yep!" I deliberately didn't mention what she'd said about him not fully fitting into the group until he forgave Will. "So, you're not bored being tied down, then?"

His face came closer, and he brushed his lips against my cheek. Feeling the hand on my chest journey downwards, I bit my lip as it reached the hem of my dress. Finally, I didn't have to push him away when he parted my legs and slid his open palm up my inner thigh until he reached my panties.

As Harry’s fingers slipped under the fabric and stroked over my heat, he told me, "Layla James, being with you is anything but boring, and I wouldn’t say no to you tying me down any time you liked."


	32. Roses

Ibiza; the white isle, the clubbing capital of the world, my spiritual home, and the destination for Rose and Dee's week-long hen party (as well as my birthday, but I wasn't overly excited about turning yet another year older.). Landing at Aeroport d'Eivissa, Rose and I looked at each other from our seats on either side of the aisle and grinned - we were home.

Arriving at Terry's villa, there was a moment where Rose, Dee, and I all gathered around Will and hugged him tightly. Terry should have been with us, pretending he was too old for all our shenanigans, but being the first to get the party going with music and cocktails. Will had been hesitant about coming at first - and he'd even quietly asked me if Harry minded - but we'd all flat out told him it wouldn't be the same without him. I had kept it to myself that, of course, Harry had hated the idea, but he'd hidden it pretty well, knowing there was no point in causing an argument over it. Will was our friend, part of our inner circle, the idea of excluding him just didn't make sense to any of us, and as much as he hated it, Harry knew that.

Because there were so many of us, Will had organised with the neighbours, who were good friends of his and Terry's, to let us use their villa, too. It was less than a minute walk, so it was a much better option than cramming into one villa or booking into a hotel. Rose, Dee, Iris, Violet, Honour, Mariah, and I were in Terry's villa, and because he wanted to make sure the other place was looked after (as well as not particularly wanting to stay in a house he associated so much with the man he loved), Will would stay in the other villa with Rose and I's holiday rep friends, Adele and Ffion, Rose's school friends, Fran and Georgie, and two of Dee's friends from college, Tommy and Laura. 

As the second minibus of people arrived, Will and I set about showing everyone to their assigned rooms so everyone could get settled and refreshed for our first night. Not wanting to peak too soon, we'd all agreed to a fairly quiet night at the villa for the first night; we'd cook a nice dinner, have a few drinks, and chill before what was likely to be a hedonistic week of partying. 

**-**

"Layla?" Rose called, coming into the bedroom I was sharing with Violet, as I unpacked a few things whilst dinner cooked. Finding me crouched in front of my suitcase, she looked at me with a smile that was both puzzled and excited, "Hey, there's someone at the door for you. Did you organise some sort of karaoke thing for us?"

"No." Frowning in confusion, I followed her to the front door where there was a very handsome young man waiting. "Hola?"

"Buenas Noches, señora. Where would you like us to set everything up?" he smiled, his accent more from Birmingham than anywhere in Spain.

"Uh... I'm sorry, are you sure this is for us?"

Pausing, he looked down at the paperwork in his hand, "Layla James?"

"That's me!" Nodding, I shrugged at Rose. "Okay, well, if you'll follow me, I can show you where might be best."

I led him through the house and out to the back garden. We agreed on the best spot, and I offered any help if he needed it, which he politely declined. He disappeared out through the side gate, and reappeared a few minutes later with two other men in hot pink polo shirts, carrying a large screen. Spotting the logo on the back of their shirts, everything made sense and I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. 

"I checked with the others, and they had no idea what I'm talking about," Rose told me when I walked back into the house.

"No, I know who it was." I grinned as I typed out a message to him that was mostly heart emojis and words of thanks for him being so wonderful. 

"Harry? Harry did this?" 

"I mentioned the company to him while I was planning everything, but I didn't want to cram every evening with stuff in case people wanted to do other things." 

Rose hummed, thoughtfully, "Interesting. Very interesting." After a few moments of not saying anything, and watching as our own, private karaoke party was being set up, she said, "You're going to marry him, aren't you?"

I thought about telling her to piss off; act coy and like I had no idea why that had even crossed her mind. But she'd been watching me instead of the men at work, watching as I bit back a grin over Harry being so thoughtful and paying attention to something I'd thought he probably found boring. I'd been thinking it, but Rose had said it, so why would I lie to my best friend?

Meeting her gaze and seeing her smiling, I was grateful that Iris and Honour were playing loud, thumping music in their room as they got ready, so nobody but Rose would hear me say, "Don't tell him, but I am, yeah."

**-**

Finding Harry's number on my recently called, I hit the button video call and waited for him to pick up.

"Hello," he answered, grinning mischievously.

"Hello to you, you little scamp!" His cheeks flushed a little as he giggled, and my heart fluttered with adoration. "Thank you, baby, it's so wonderful that you did that. The girls all say 'thank you', too."

"I knew you really wanted to do it, so this way you can blame me if anybody complains. I hope you all have fun." 

I had to look away, the wine I'd had with dinner made my heart want to burst from my chest. I was already sad that I wouldn't get to spend my birthday with him, but now I wished he'd been able to come for the whole week. He was entirely too loveable, and tipsy Layla couldn't handle it.

Pulling myself together, I replied, "Oh, we will! We just had dinner and the only thing we talked about was what songs we want to do. Iris says she wants to do Eminem's _'My Name Is'_ , which is going to be a treat." 

Harry laughed loudly, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, making me want to kiss the screen. "Please send me a video of that if she does." 

"Don't worry, I will. I've seen her do it before and it's truly a sight to behold!"

Suddenly, he said, "I miss you. It's strange being in London and you're not here. I can't even go and hang out with Stan!"

"I miss you, too," I pouted, "but I'll call you when I can. And the invitation to come still stands."

"I wish I could, but I have work to do." Sighing, he added, "And I don't want to get in the way of your fun."

When Harry and I had visited Anne, one of the little bits of advice she'd given me was to get used to the fact that sometimes Harry just simply could not do things he wanted to. She'd said it was still hard when she wanted to spend the day with Harry and Gemma in London, doing touristy things, having a rare day with both of her children, but it just simply wasn't logical considering the attention Harry would get. Of course, there were ways of getting around it, but sometimes it was more hassle for him than it was worth. I would have loved for Harry to come to Ibiza with me and my friends, it was where I'd done a lot of my growing up, and was a place I considered to be home, but he wouldn't be able to do half of the things I had planned without getting mithered every five minutes or followed.

So, with a heavy heart, we'd agreed that it was best I kept it as a (mostly) girls trip. We would have to come back together another time.

There was a hard, loud knock on the bedroom door before it swung open and Violet, Iris, and Dee burst in.

Violet yelled, "She's got her clothes on! Layla, you are a well shit girlfriend, mate."

"Okay, you've had long enough!" Dee laughed, coming to put an arm around my shoulder and speaking to Harry, "Hi Harry, I have come to steal your woman away. We need her to slaughter - I mean, sing ' _Total Eclipse Of The Heart_ '."

"Dee, I'm totally relying on you to film her singing for me," Harry laughed, waving at her and the two curious redheads trying to push their heads into view.

"Harry, I'm Iris. Rose's youngest and best younger sister." Planting a hand on the side of my face, she pushed me out of the way. "We can't wait to meet you proper - give you a real Fullerton welcome."

I hadn't told Harry about 'The Fullerton Family Welcome' just yet, so before she could say anymore, I shoved her backwards and got up off the bed to go stand by the window. "Okay, baby, I think that's my cue to leave. I will call you tomorrow."

To my relief, he was still laughing as we said a quick goodbye, thoroughly amused by my friends as they yelled goodbye and made loud kissing noises. 

"Layla," Violet said, shaking her head in disbelief, "I'm not going to lie, yeah? I know it was all over the papers, and I've seen pictures of you together, but... but that was really Harry fucking _STYLES_!" 

After telling Bianca about Harry and me, I realised I just had to not take it personally when someone couldn't believe I was dating Harry. It had taken a few conversations to properly sink in, but as I'd never given any indication to pretty much everyone I knew that I had ever even met Harry Styles, - let alone liked or fancied him - I had to accept that the fact I was suddenly in a serious, committed relationship with him was a bit of a mind fuck for my friends. 

Because of that, it was far easier to laugh at Violet's reaction. "Yeah, it was, and I haven't told him about the Fullerton inquisition yet so keep your mouth shut. I would actually like him to spend Christmas with us without you scaring him off."

"ANYBODY IN THAT HOUSE BETTER GET OUTSIDE NOW!" Rose's voice boomed over the speakers outside, distracting us all from our conversation.

Violet gasped and elbowed Iris out of the way as they both raced to the door like rowdy children. "I'm going first!" 

**-**

I'd been stupid to worry that nobody would want to do karaoke, and as each and every person in our party got up to sing, I was even more grateful that Harry had taken the plunge for me. Iris did get up and do a word-perfect ' _My Name Is_ ', which was once again truly one of the greatest things I'd ever seen in my life. Will and Rose duetted on ' _Islands In The Stream_ ' (with Rose as Kenny Rogers, and Will as Dolly), Dee's older sister Mariah did her best Liam Gallagher - complete with tilted up head to the microphone, and the occasional two fingers - to do ' _Wonderwall_ ', then Tommy, Dee, and Laura did ' _Dancing Queen_ ', because ' _Abba Gold_ ' had been the soundtrack of their years together in college. And, of course, I did my absolutely perfect, and not at all terrible or out of tune, rendition of the greatest song of all time - Bonnie Tyler's ' _Total Eclipse Of The Heart_ '.

It was so fun to watch as someone got up and started off timidly, to then being in full Freddie Mercury-like performance mode by the end of the song - encouraged by our cheers and applause.

"So, Lil, how are things with you and Harry?" Georgie asked when I joined her and a few of the others in the comfortable seats around the fire pit. 

I didn't respond for a moment, just took a long sip of my dangerously delicious frozen watermelon margarita. After everything that had happened with our relationship going public, I felt uncomfortable talking about Harry to people outside of my very close circle of friends, but I was also on holiday with a group of people who knew full well that he and I were dating. So, rather than shut the conversation down and look like a dick, I would simply have to be careful about what I told them. It was just really hard when I was tipsy and head over heels in love, when I wanted to tell everyone about how wonderful things were with him, especially since Italy and us clearing the air.

"It's going great," I eventually replied, smiling widely as I tipsily pictured his face and felt a violent rush of love for him. 

Georgie smiled back, raising her glass as if to toast to happiness. Shaking her head, she said, "I honestly couldn't believe it when I found it! And I can't believe Fran and me kept talking about wanting to ride him in the club that night."

Laughing, the memory of that night and how Harry had almost kissed me, made my heart quicken. I could look back and laugh about the two of them being descriptive about the things they'd wanted to do to him, but I remembered just how jealous I'd been at the time. I should have known then that I was going to end up sleeping with him.

"It feels like so long ago, now. So much has changed!"

"Were you together then?" Seeing me hesitate, she quickly added, "Don't answer if you don't want to! I am totally being nosy, and I understand it might be awkward to talk about him after..."

"No, no, it's okay," I told her, "I mean, obviously I would hope that nobody here would repeat what I say to anyone. I would hope we're all better friends than that."

"Of course, Lil." Georgie reached out her hand and placed it on my knee, squeezing it reassuringly. It wasn't her I was worried about. "I honestly can't imagine how awful that must have been. Rose said you still don't have any idea who it was?"

"Not a clue." Real life was starting to eat away at the drunken happiness I'd had all evening, and was beginning to snowball. "It's shit, but Harry's manager and his team are doing what they can to find out. But, to answer your question, no, we weren't together then." 

It once again hit me that as long as I didn't know who had betrayed me, I would never be able to truly feel comfortable again. I didn't think Georgie would say anything to anyone outside of our group, but she might tell Fran - who I had never gotten along with - and she might go tell someone else, who would then tell someone else, then whispers would twist a flippant comment into something much worse, and somehow it gets back to Harry! It was hard to be suspicious of everybody all of the goddamn time.

Pulling myself back into the fun I'd been having before the negative train of thought swallowed me whole, I raised my drink to my lips, and muttered against the glass with a guilty smile, "Not too long after, though."

"Layla! You minx!" Georgie laughed as she leant over to clink her glass with mine, and after we both took a drink, she said, "Good for you! I'm glad you're happy. You couldn't be any more different to who you were back then. You're glowing, and it's wonderful."

"George!" I put a hand to my heart, and mock cried to mask the real lump in my throat as I shifted closer to hug her. "Thank you. And! What about you? You met David that night!"

"I did," she grinned, "and a set of twins later, I still want to make out with him on a crowded dance floor."

"That's how it should be!"

"Wouldn't it be funny if we both met our future husbands that night?" 

Elbowing me as she laughed, Georgie's attention was then thankfully caught as Rose, Dee, Iris, Honour, and Fran started to sing _'Say You'll Be_ _There_ ' by the Spice Girls. Two mentions of Harry and I marrying in one night? And I hadn't instantly shut either one of them down? I drained my glass and went to fetch another drink before I drunk dialled him and told him we should elope.

**-**

We spent the following day at the beach, hiring cars so that we could drive to Pou des Lleo which had been the beach our group of reps would go to on our days off. Laying in the sun, listening to music and the sound of waves gently rippling, whilst nursing a rotten hangover was exactly what we all needed.

After a long day of sunbathing, swimming, and a few of us snorkelling, we had an early dinner of fresh fish and paella at the restaurant on the beach, then headed back to our villas to get ready for our first night out in Ibiza. And we were going out in fancy dress!

As we got ready I felt like I was nineteen all over again; old school dance classics thumping through the whole villa, helping each other with hair, tricky costumes, and false lashes, sitting next to Violet in front of a mirror on the floor with a glass of wine, and chatting whilst doing our makeup. Nostalgia washed over me, realising I was getting further and further away from those days, but for the first time ever, I felt like that time wasn't the best my life would ever be. 

**-**

I hadn't danced so much in forever. Moving down the West End in San Antonio, going to the bars and clubs we'd loved most, all of us danced until our feet could take no more. Even Will seemed to be having a good time, and it was nice to see him having fun and getting along with Tommy, as the only two guys in the group. 

By 4 am, we were all ready for home, and ready for bed. Climbing into the minibus, the mood was surprisingly perky; chattering and laughing loudly as certain parts of the night were retold to those who'd missed out. 

As we left the main town, and I could see the sky beginning to get lighter as dawn approached, I wished Harry was with us so that we could take a stroll on the beach as the sun rose. I was having the best time, and I usually didn't mind when we were apart because of work, but I couldn't seem to stop thinking about him. Ever since Italy, and how perfect that had been, it was like the dial for my love for him had been cranked all the way up to eleven.

I had warned him that there would be a good chance he'd wake up to a slew of drunk texts and/or a drunken voicemail, so despite knowing he'd be asleep, I unlocked my phone and called him. It rang for a little while before I got the request to leave a message.

Trying not to sound drunk - and failing miserably, I imagined - I spoke quietly, "Hi baby, we're on our way home, and I just called-"

Suddenly, Dee, who I thought had been sleeping in the seat next to me, lifted her head, raised her arms and started to sing loudly, "TO SAY I LOVE YOU!"

Everyone on the bus erupted into laughter before they all joined in with a loud, off-key rendition of Stevie Wonder's ' _I Just Called To Say I Love You_ '. I held my phone up in the air so that he'd be able to hear better, giggling when they finished the chorus and bellowed, "WE LOVE YOU HARRY!"

"I hope you enjoyed that," I laughed, pressing the phone to my ear again. Quickly telling him I loved him, and that I'd speak to him when I woke up, I hung up the phone. "You're all idiots."

**-**

I woke up to a message from Harry. Laughing loudly, I read it out loud to Violet, who was already sitting up in bed and removing the makeup she had been too tired to remove before sleeping.

**Harry**   
_Loved your voicemail. I sent it to Jeff, and he wants to sign you all. X_

Cheeks growing warm, I left out the last part of the message.

**Harry**   
_Also, I'm going to need you to wear that nurse costume for me in person._

"This is it!" Violet croaked, her voice husky from shouting, "My perfect moment!"

"Alright, thanks, Martine."

**Layla**   
_Girls are very excited! We can draw up contracts when I get home. Love you, I'll call in a little while x_

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed a quick shower, which managed to shake off the grogginess of my hangover, then headed out of the bedroom to get a large glass of cold water and get started with breakfast. As I walked through the living room, I stopped mid-way when I spotted Will outside by the pool, his legs dangling in the water. 

"Alright?" I asked, sliding open the patio doors and heading out to sit with him.

He looked up at me, shielding his eyes from the already warm morning sun. "Yeah, I just thought I'd come out for a dip to clear my head. I don't like Nate and Derek's pool."

"This place has definitely got a better pool." Sitting down on one of the square concrete slabs, I gingerly dipped my feet into the cold water, muttering profanities as I did. Quickly, I adjusted to the cold, and it felt soothing on my sore, high heel-mangled toes. "Did you have fun last night?"

Will nodded, gaze fixed on the ripples he made with his left foot. "Yeah. It was... it was surprisingly enjoyable." We were silent for a moment, and I wondered if maybe he wanted to be left alone but just didn't want to say so. I was about to ask if he'd rather I just went back in, when he said, "I keep thinking I'm okay. Last night I was having a great time, and I might have even been flirting with Tommy a little- Don't you dare."

"I wasn't going to say anything!"

He narrowed his eyes at me, then continued, "But I woke up this morning, and that ache is there again. The knowing that I will never see Terry again, never spend time together in this house again, never get to tell him I love him and have him say it back; it's just so unbearable, Lil." Pausing, he took my hand when I reached out for him. "I want to scream. I want to know why he had to go now, why I have to do this without him. I wasn't ready, and that's the most fucking frustrating thing."

I wished there was something I could say to make him feel less alone, to ease the pain, but I knew from experience that there was nothing. So, I simply said, "I know."

"Will it get better?" he asked. "It'll go away eventually, right?"

Sighing, I shrugged my shoulders. His grief and mine were so different that I couldn't really compare them. It oddly wasn't the loss of Paula that left me so broken, but the circumstances. If anything, it was losing Bianca that I had grieved for more, and she had just come back into my life. Will had lost his soul mate and the love of his life, I couldn't tell him it would get better when the thought of losing Harry or Rose forever terrified me.

Finally, I looked at him and squeezed his hand. "I don't think it will ever go away, but it will get better. You'll go through good days and bad, but the pain won't always be so all-consuming."

"Am I wrong for enjoying myself? Mia asked me if I thought that maybe it was a little too soon to be swanning off to Ibiza to stay in my dead husband's villa."

"Mia can get fucked," I said bluntly before I could stop myself. Thankfully, it made Will laugh loudly, a sound I hadn't heard for a while.

"Please, Layla, tell me how you truly feel, be honest with me."

"Well!? Do you honestly think Terry Daniels would want you sitting at home, moping around in sadness instead of coming to an island he loved so much he bought a house here?" With a reluctant smile, Will shook his head. "Exactly. He would want you to have fun, Will, he would want you to be here with us. The very fact that you're sitting here and we're having this conversation is proof enough that you haven't just forgotten him. Don't let Mia make you think otherwise."

Shifting closer, he laid his head on my shoulder and sighed like he'd had a small weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thanks, Lil."


	33. Sweet Like Chocolate

Waking up yet again with a sore head, a dry mouth, and ringing ears, I wasn't sure how I was going to last another two days. If nothing else, partying in Ibiza had confirmed what I'd kind of suspected: I was too old for hangovers.

Happy Birthday, me.

As I rolled over and prised open my eyes which were stuck together with mascara and glitter - because even at thirty-five I was still too lazy to remove my makeup before passing out drunk - I saw Violet sitting up, looking like she was regretting every choice she'd made in life which led her to this hangover.

"I feel like death," she groaned, seeing I was awake. "Everything is spinning. I can barely remember anything that happened last night."

"You were pretty out of it. Did you get with that guy?" I asked in a croak, voice hoarse from all the shouting and singing I'd been doing a few hours before.

"Ugh! Yes. He wanted me to go back to his apartment."

"He was quite fit... I think. I can't remember."

We both grimaced at each other - her demonstrating that she couldn't remember what the guy whose tongue was down her throat for most of the night looked like.

Feeling like I wanted to cry at the very thought, "Back on it tonight."

"Oh god, no. I- I can't do it again. Can't we just stay in? I know it's your birthday, but-"

"No, no, we might have to, I need a night off," I replied before grabbing my water bottle and drinking half the contents. It was warm, and I anticipated that I'd be making a dash for the bathroom at any minute. "We'll see how the rest feel when we get up. Maybe we'll just have that movie night we were meant to have the other night?"

Violet nodded her head, then quickly placed the heel of her palm against her forehead, "Ow! Well, I'm not doing anything tonight, either way."

Suddenly, she put a hand to her tummy and looked at me oddly, her skin suddenly turning a funny colour. The hand on her stomach flew to her mouth as she projected off the bed and bolted into the toilet, slamming the door behind her.

I didn't want to get up, but I also couldn't lay there and listen as Violet loudly emptied her stomach in the room next to me. I was too close to losing my own to hear the sounds of retching and heaving. With a pained groan, I got up. Wrapping myself up in my blanket, I grabbed my water bottle and phone and left the bedroom to see if anyone else had surfaced from their beds just yet.

Out in the living room, more of the girls were awake than I'd expected. Rose, Georgie and Honour were laid out on the sofas looking a little worse for wear, but laughing as they chatted about our antics from the night before. I was exhausted, I felt like shit, and the thought of drinking again made me die a little inside, but it really had been a lot of fun and had definitely been worth feeling so rough.

"Morning birthday girl!" Rose said, far too cheerfully, as I shuffled into the room and collapsed next to her. "You look like how Dee feels. Feeling a bit worse for wear?"

I waited for my three friends to finish their out-of-tune, hungover rendition of _'Happy Birthday'_ , then flopped my head onto the back of the sofa. "A little. I would have stayed in bed longer, but your sister's being sick."

"Yes!" Honour laughed, throwing a limp arm in the air. "I had a bet with her that with all the Aftershock she was throwing back she was going to end up puking. She swore blind she wouldn't, so now owes me five whole euros!"

"Isn't that taking advantage of someone who's not in their right mind?" asked Rose, grinning as she took her hair down to scrape it back up into a perfectly messy bun. "She was wild last night; almost put our Iris to shame. Sometimes I don't think we're alike and then I go on a night with them both and it all makes so much sense."

"Speaking of Iris!" Iris bellowed as she came sliding across the floor in her socks. Oh, to be twenty-five again and have the ability to escape a heavy night unscathed. "Happy birthday, Lil! You look like shit."

Toppling over onto my side, I gave her a thumbs up and mumbled into the couch cushions, "Thanks, Iris, I love you too."

Violet had been wild, but then again, we all had been. I wasn't sure if it was from spending the day out in the sun, or from all the sugary drinks, but all the pretence of being on a classy, grown-up hen do had been thrown out of the window. Clothes had been lost, Rose had nearly gotten into a fistfight because some girl had barged past Mariah, and we'd all ended the night by skinny dipping in the pool back at the villa. And that was just the PG-rated version of events.

Feeling Rose nudge my bum with her foot, I whined in protest as she asked me, "So, what's the plan today, then, bird?"

"Dunno."

"I'm ready to get back on it, mate!" I could see Iris as she sat cross-legged on the pink velvet footstool, dancing with her fingers pointed like two guns. "Have a tequila and you'll be fine!"

In unison, Georgie and I made a fake gagging noise, having flashbacks of the tequila shots we'd both imbibed. Why had we thought Ibiza was a good idea for the hen party? A spa - that's what I should have suggested. A nice peaceful spa, with healthy juices and fluffy white robes. Instead, I'd opted for encouraging debauchery, like an absolute mug. If and when I decided to get married again, my hen night would be a night at home learning how to knit, with a nice mug of Horlicks.

Sitting up, I tried to muster up some enthusiasm for the day. We were meant to be going to a pool party, but the thought of travelling just made me want to lie down again.

"I was going to see how you all felt about having a quiet night?"

There was a chorus of protests that all had the same theme; we have to do something, it's your birthday.

My thirty-fifth birthday. Not exactly a day I wanted to celebrate, and while normally I would have loved the idea of drowning my sorrows as I neared my forties, my sorrows were already drowned, and at this point, everything else was standing at the sidelines shouting 'they're dead already, woman! For the love of God, stop!'. I was more than happy to have a quiet birthday and do something to celebrate when I got back home and felt less close to death.

"Are you sure, Lil?" Rose asked, quietly. "I want us to celebrate."

“Honestly, I had so much fun last night that I'm happy to claim it as my birthday night. Or, there's always tomorrow. I just… I need a break, I am old. Think Vi could also do with a quiet one, to be honest.” 

"Okay. Well, just say the word if you change your mind."

Putting a grateful hand on her foot as it rested on my lap, I felt relieved to know it would just be a nice, quiet day. I wanted food, to lounge in the pool, and maybe a nap or two. Essentially how I wanted my thirty-fifth year to go.

**-**

The coolness of the pool seemed to work wonders. Taking a deep breath, I sank below the water and stayed under the surface for as long as I could stand, before reemerging with an already clearer head. My tummy still swirled with the previous night's drink, but that was far easier to cope with than the fuzzy, cotton wool-like feeling that had weighed me down moments earlier.

Swimming over the edge of the pool where Iris, Violet and Honour were sitting with their legs in the water, all three of them under thirty and looking as fresh as a daisy. Even Violet, who'd seemingly recovered from her exorcist act only an hour before.

"You alright, Lil?" she asked, pushing up her sunglasses to sit on her head. "Are you sure you don't want to do anything today?"

Bobbing in the water, I tried to imagine spending another night partying and groaned, "I'm sure. Maybe we can go out for dinner later, but I just want to chill."

Iris scoffed, "Okay, Gran, we'll catch you doing shots at the bar later."

I shook my head, adamantly "No, no, those days of getting back on the horse are behind me. I'm a grown-up now."

All three girls laughed, not believing me one bit. I felt somewhat proud that my reputation as the life and soul of the party was still being upheld, but I wasn't so sure I could live up to their expectations.

After a moment of peaceful silence, Honour said, "Vi, Dee was saying you're going to be working at 'Layla-Rose'?"

Violet's face lit up at the mention of her having started working at the business. She'd been working for a different events company, doing a job not too dissimilar to the one Rose used to do - working the doors and guest lists to various events. But, when we'd decided it was best to get someone extra who could work alongside Vicky, who would help lighten the load for her, Rose, and I, Violet had jumped at the opportunity.

"Yes! I'm so excited!" she beamed. "I handed in my notice the other day, and it was better than sex."

"Totally telling that bloke you shagged last night you said that," Iris joked, ignoring as her sister shoved her lightly. "Anyway, better you than me working for Rose. She was bad enough when we were kids, bossing us around, imagine what she's going to be like when she's paying your wages."

I opened my mouth to defend Rose but stopped when I heard her shout from the open french doors to the villa. "Oh, birthday girl! Postman's been, and you have a delivery."

My cheeks flushed, and the butterflies in my tummy threatened to tilt my nausea over the edge. Harry had told me I would have to wait until I was home for my present, but I guessed his impatience had got the better of him. It was probably a good idea to stay in for the night, or there was a distinct possibility that I would be calling him late at night and 'serenading' him again and crying because I couldn't spend my birthday with him.

Getting out of the pool, I grabbed my towel and practically skipped into the house. On the coffee table was quite possibly the largest bouquet of baby pink roses I had ever seen in my life, it was almost obscene and I worried the table would break under the weight. Next to it was a pink foil balloon, which was shaped like a heart, and an envelope.

"He definitely didn't get those off a garage forecourt," Violet mumbled, making me realise the girls had followed me in to have a nose. "What does the card say?"

I picked up the small, pink envelope, and slid out the generic florist card, but didn't read the message out loud.

_'Lil,_

_Nothing could show how much I love and miss you, or how much I wish we could spend today together, but these will have to do until you get back._

_I love you._

_Harry'_

I felt my cheeks redden, and I felt a pang of longing that he was with me. I missed him, and I liked the thought that he missed me, too. Every day, we took more and more tentative steps towards a happy life together, and it made me so happy. He made me happy.

Looking up to gush about how wonderful my boyfriend was, I had to do a double-take. There he was; Harry, grinning sheepishly, looking like he was ready to duck behind Dee if his surprise backfired.

"Oh, my god!" I cried, rushing to him with open arms while my friends fell about laughing. Forgetting that I was still wet from the pool, I hugged him tightly and kissed his face. "Baby, what are you doing here?"

"I missed you, and I wanted to surprise you. Are you mad?" Harry replied, his smile faltering as he pulled away. "I checked with Rose and Dee, they said it was okay."

"No! I'm not mad, not at all. Just... shocked." Groaning, I covered my eyes. "And I'm so hungover. I look and feel dreadful."

Enveloped in Harry's arms again, I pressed my face into the warmth of his chest and felt so much better. His arrival wasn't at a particularly optimal time because I felt like shit, but I couldn't say it wasn't welcomed. Harry was on the island that had essentially birthed the Layla he knew, it was where I found myself outside of my trauma. We'd talked years ago about how he'd never been to Ibiza, and he'd said he was quite sad to have missed out on the kind of holiday that for most Brits is classed as a rite of passage. I was over the moon to show him a place I held dear to my heart.

**-**

It turned out that all of the girls had known that Harry was going to show up at some point during the day. I'd worried that maybe it would annoy them, seeing as we were on what was meant to be a girl's trip (apart from Will and Tommy), but they seemed perfectly happy to welcome him for the last couple of days.

After a lazy day by the pool, he and I took ourselves off to the beach to watch the sunset before going to meet everyone else at Rose and I's favourite restaurant. I still didn't want to go out and party, but I had agreed with the rest of the girls that since Harry had shown up we should at least go out somewhere nice for dinner. I still felt grim, but the desire to show him a place I loved had helped me push past the worst of my hangover.

The beach closest to the villa usually got crowded as the sun went down, so I drove us a little further to Talamanca, which was close to the restaurant. There were still quite a lot of people around, but it was far less busy than I knew Playa d'en Bossa would be.

"I still can't believe you're here," I said as we walked towards the water's edge to do a little paddling.

Harry lifted up my hand as he held it and pressed a kiss to the back, grinning, "I'm relieved that you're happy I'm here."

"You'll have to get over that, you know? Thinking I'll be annoyed if you turn up places unexpectedly. I wasn't ever angry because I didn't want to see you- Okay, well no, that's a lie, there were a couple of times, but mostly I was annoyed because..." I trailed off as I remembered that one of my last visits to Ibiza had been to celebrate Rose's thirtieth, and because I'd fallen out with Harry over him leaving a damn hat at the house that I'd been certain that Will would know was his. "Your carelessness, I was angry at you for putting us both at risk."

"I know, I was an idiot. I think that's why I care so much now; because it never occurred to me that I did have to be so much more careful than I was."

Our conversation paused as we kicked off our shoes and hooked them on the fingers of our free hands, carrying them with us to tread in the surf of the Mediterranean sea. The water was still warm, fading sunlight making the soft waves glitter as they lapped at our ankles. As was always the case, I had reached the beach and instantly wished I was swimming. Harry and I remained silent as we took in the view: small sailboats on the water, lights coming to life in nearby Ibiza Town, and a sky that was painted purple and orange. I could hear the familiar thud of chill-out house music being played in one of the bars nearby, mixing with the rippling tide as it drew in closer to the beachfront bars. It was as peaceful a moment as one could get on this part of the island.

"This is amazing." Turning and tucking loose hair behind my ear, Harry said quietly, "And look how far we've come."

I flashed him a quick smile - similarly amazed at how much our lives and relationship had changed - before playfully shaking my head, "Harry, baby, you've got to stop with the Shania references, I've told you."

His laugh was loud, expelling from him as he pulled me into a one-armed hug, and kissed the top of my head. Closing his eyes tightly so little creases appeared, he quietly sang with dramatic passion, "We might'a took the long way, we knew we'd get there someday. They-"

I joined in with his laughter, but still clamped a hand over his mouth and felt him giggling against my fingers.

Hand in hand, we walked with the soft, damp sand beneath our feet and the setting sun on our face.

"Sometimes I think we dwell too much on those days," I said after a long, comfortable silence. "Or maybe it's just me who thinks about them a lot."

"I do, too. Maybe not so much anymore, but..." Harry's pause was enough to fill in the gap he was reluctant to speak; he didn't think about them anymore, but he'd pored over every detail of our early relationship when we weren't together. I knew because I'd done it too when I accepted that I was going to be seeing him again. Clearing his throat, his tone sounded less sad and more optimistic, "Anyway, I don't think we dwell on it, we just don't deny that that was the beginning for us."

Glad he understood what I meant, I squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. "Yeah, and okay, we had some really shit times, but I also had some of the best times in my life with you way back then. The way you spoiled me on my birthday changed my life, I loved just spending time with you and getting to know you. Oh! And the sex? A plus."

Smile turning into a smirk, Harry looked at me and I regretted not taking him to a far more secluded beach. "We had really great sex. Though I think we've both somehow gotten better."

"Not to give you a big head or nothing, but you didn't have much to improve on."

"Why, thank you!" he replied, trying to hide how much he enjoyed when I complimented him. "And neither did you."

"Thanks."

"But I still think it's better now."

We came to a stop as the sun dipped down behind the horizon, casting a beautiful red and orange colour across the sky. It was easy to understand why hippies had taken to Ibiza in the sixties when there was something so particularly special about its sunsets.

"Thank you for coming here, I honestly am over the moon and so glad I got to spend today with you."

"I'm happy I got to, too, baby."

Leaning my head on Harry's shoulder, I felt at peace. Then, suddenly, a thought struck me.

"Oh! I don't think I ever told you!" I said, as I grabbed his left hand and pointed at the anchor tattoo we shared. "I got mine because of you! You copied me, but I got it because of you."

Harry's grin was wide as he asked, "You're kidding?"

"I'm serious! Okay, I think I can tell you this now, but I was out here with Rose for her birthday, and I was trying hard to forget you after our fight. We went out one night and _'What Makes You Beautiful'_ came on in the club we were in-"

"Nice!"

"Well, Rose pulled me up to dance and it was a giggle, but then I could hear your voice, and I got so sad, so she dragged me to a tattoo place her ex-girlfriend ran. I picked the anchor because I hoped it would keep me 'grounded', and stop me from getting fancy ideas and ever getting involved with you again." Shaking my head and chuckling, I traced the shape on the back of his wrist with my thumb. "I told myself I couldn't ever allow myself to think we would have a future."

"It worked then?" Harry asked with a soft chuckle, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"Yeah, maybe not." I laughed as I remembered how absolutely certain I was that Harry and I would never, ever, be together again. "I tried! I really tried. At The Ivy, I'd already seen you were there, but I wanted to get out before you saw me-"

"I saw you walk in, Lil."

Having never really gone into detail about that day he'd seen me cry because Will had insulted me over dinner, this information took me by surprise. I'd always thought I'd been the one who spotted him first, but Harry had known I was there all along. "Oh."

"Seeing as we're confessing things; when I saw you, I tried to ignore you. When you walked past me to go to the toilets, I wanted you to think I was having the best time with my friends, that I didn't even care." He winced slightly at the memory. "That all went out of the window when I saw you crying. You never told me what he did to upset you."

"And I probably never will. I want you and Will to be friends, and it was all so long ago that it doesn't matter anymore."

Harry was quiet for a moment, then said, "Okay."

Relieved he'd been happy to move on, I let out a quiet sigh that wasn't entirely sad and stood closer to him. Dropping my shoes to the floor, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him softly. The memory of that night was sad, but it didn't feel that gut-wrenching anymore.

"I tried again to not get involved with you when I came to the premiere, but I think we can safely say that I was fighting a losing battle. I look back and I know that's the night I fell in love with you. I'd gone there with good intentions, but honestly, I'd just wanted to see you and have you tell me everything was going to be okay."

"Lil..." Harry let his shoes fall to the wet sand, and reached up to cup my face.

It was close to being completely dark, but I could see the look in his eyes in the last few seconds of the fading sun. I waited for him to speak again, but instead, he crushed his lips against mine, kissing me deeply and with all the passion he'd had when we'd kissed in that hotel room and I'd forgotten all about the meaning behind my drunk Ibiza tattoo. We didn't dwell on our past, we weren't stuck in those early days of secrecy and longing, but they were a huge part of why we were together. There were feelings and moments we hadn't discussed because they'd been forgotten, or they'd been too painful. None of it held that pain anymore, it only solidified why we loved each other enough to be together.


	34. Pass It On

On what would have been Will and Terry's first wedding anniversary, Rose, Dee, and I made a point of going to see him. Armed with alcohol, takeaway, and lots of sweet treats, the three of us barged our way into his house with the intent to do whatever it took to get him through the day.

We weren't the only ones who'd wanted to make sure he was okay. 

I hadn't seen Mia in months, not since the funeral. She had her little boy, George, with her, and despite barely having any kind of bump, Will had already told me she was pregnant again. Despite my feelings of animosity towards her, I couldn't help feel sad that she no longer had her father around. He'd doted on his grandson, and it broke my heart that he wouldn't get to know this grandchild.

Mia's expression was serious when she approached me, "Can we talk?" 

After what had happened at the wake, and the fact I was one-hundred percent certain she hadn't gone to the press (despite Will's insistence that she would never), I wanted to roll my eyes and tell her to fuck off. But, at the end of the day, she was Terry's daughter, and everyone else who was in the immediate firing line had been given the opportunity to tell me to my face that they were innocent. For Terry's sake, I felt I owed her at least that.

"Sure." I glanced at Rose, Dee, and Will, before moving to follow Mia into the kitchen. Leaning against the breakfast bar, arms folded, I asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I know Will has already told you, but I wanted to tell you myself that I had nothing to do with that article." As if I didn't know what she was talking about, she quickly added, "The one about you and Harry."

Silently, I bit my lip in thought and nodded my head. I didn't buy it for one minute. She looked at me with big, blue eyes, her lips pouted in innocence and it left me cold and unmoved. However, I had been wrong about her guilt before - I'd blamed her for having an affair with Will when, actually, he was sleeping with her father. 

A fleeting thought crossed my mind, wondering if maybe it was both her and Will, but the idea made me feel nauseous. After everything I'd done to defend him to Harry, and the arguments that had caused, I couldn't handle thinking my ex-husband was involved. Hadn't he betrayed me enough?

Once again, I was confronted with the knowledge that whoever was responsible was someone close to me and someone I loved and cared about. 

There were a million things I wanted to say or ask Mia, just to see if I could trip her up somehow, but every time I went to speak, it simply felt like none of it mattered. I wanted to know who it was, but unlike the others, Mia didn't mean all that much to me, so it wouldn't be a loss. She would have to be the one to live the consequences because, in a weird way, she, - or whoever it was - had done me a favour. 

With a heavy sigh, I searched for some answer to give her, but only came up with one: "Okay." 

I shrugged my shoulders at her, pinching my lips together in a smile that told her I didn't know what else she was expecting me to say, and left the kitchen. She'd said her piece, I'd listened to her, and that was enough.

\---

Liverpool. 

The anticipation of going back was agony. As I lay in bed in Anne's house, wide awake and listening to Harry's steady breaths beside me, feeling time slowly crawl by towards morning, I wish I could either just cancel going altogether, or just get in the car immediately and get it over with. 

My heart raced, and nervousness swirled in my tummy as I overthought how the following day would go; would I cry hysterically as soon as I saw signs for the city I grew up in, would the sight of the River Mersey make me weep, or would I freeze and be rendered incapable of functioning like a human until I was a safe distance away from Merseyside? I had no idea if Bianca wanted to just hang out and get to know each other more, or if she wanted to go to the place where Paula, her, and I had lived. There was even a part of me which was anticipating that actually, she was going to tell me she was to blame for mine and Harry's relationship going public, and that she had no interest in us having any further contact.

There was something in my gut telling me that the visit to Liverpool was not going to end well and that I had to keep my guard up.

-

Just in case I did get upset, Harry drove my car (I wasn't ready for marriage, but I had taken the plunge and had added him to my insurance policy so that we could share driving duties - baby steps). As we neared the city centre, and we passed familiar red-brick, two up-two down terrace streets, I did feel panic start to set in. The place was undeniably different, and there were new buildings next to old, familiar ones, landmarks I'd recognised were now obscured by tall, glass structures, or were completely gone. 

Following the long line of traffic into the city, so we could meet Bianca and her boyfriend Elis, a surprising excitement began to replace my anxiety. 

"You alright?" Harry asked as we came to a stop at a set of traffic lights. 

Just ahead of us was the Albert Dock, with shimmering slivers of silver off the Mersey next to it, and to the right was the Liver Building. Swallowing hard as emotion constricted my throat, I twisted in my seat and tilted my head up so that I could just make out one of the most important emblems of the city - the Liver Birds. 

I'd lost sleep, thinking the worst. I'd expected to feel a crashing wall of trauma just from being in the city, but I didn't feel any of that pain - I felt like I'd come home. 

-

It didn't come as a surprise that Bianca wanted to go to where she and I had lived with Paula. We weren't even sure if it was still there, and I'd felt panic tighten in my chest when I thought about the last time I'd been there, but I understood that she wanted to feel some connection to that time in her life. 

After searching on google maps while we talked over coffee, I found out that the address in the Dingle still existed. As the four of us made our way back to my car so that I could drive us there, Harry had quietly asked me if I honestly wanted to go but I'd assured him that I was fine. I didn't quite believe it, but whether it was out of morbid curiosity or something else, I wanted to go.

-

The block of flats was smaller than I remembered, and somehow, dingier. 

Leaning my folded arms on the steering wheel, I sat forward and stared at a building which had haunted my nightmares for years. It was painted a yellowish-off-white, split over two floors, and we'd lived in the furthest flat on the second floor. The front door had been replaced with a white UPVC one, but I remembered it had been olive green, which - much to my amusement - Ollie had said was like baby-poo green.

As the four of us sat in silence, I waited for the rush of emotion I'd anticipated and felt... nothing. Okay, so perhaps nothing wasn't quite correct, but I didn't feel like I was suddenly transported back to my nightmares, I felt like I was in the same place but twenty years later. Memories I'd forgotten were coming back, and I did feel a deep, painful longing in my chest for the mother I'd lost, but the world had also moved on. The front door had changed, the houses nearby had changed, the city had changed, I had changed. 

There was a part of me that would always be stuck in that moment, a part I supposed was the last of my childhood innocence, and I knew I wasn't going to drive away and those days when I'd sat with Bianca and Paula would never darken my thoughts again. But going back, and seeing that place again, felt akin to wheeling around and locking eyes with my tormentor - you can haunt me all you want, but you're not real, and I am stronger than you.

Hearing Bianca sniffing from the passenger seat, my arm shot out and I reached for her hand. 

"Do you want to get out?" I asked her.

I couldn't deny that I was relieved when she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her jacket and shook her head. "No, I've seen enough."

-

The day was long but surprisingly enjoyable. Because most of them were nearby, I drove us to a few other places I remembered, including the pub Paula had worked at. It was undeniably draining, but also cathartic. Memories - good and bad - reemerged from deep within my mind, and it felt nice to know that it hadn't all been bad. 

By four o'clock, it was almost dark, and the four of us were in deep need of food and a change of mood. 

As we drove to Bianca's parents' house in Greenacre (which was on a completely different end of the scale to Dingle), she said to me, "I hope you don't mind, but my brother and sister and their kids will be at the house. They all wanted to meet you."

"Not at all. I'd love to meet them." I forced a smile, and she instantly looked relieved.

It wasn't exactly a lie; I did want to meet the people who were her family, but it was hitting me just how much the day had taken everything out of me. I'd gone from feeling a sense of catharsis to feeling tired and unclean, having the same aura of grubbiness that I usually experienced when I woke from my recurring nightmare. I'd pushed myself too far down memory lane and as we drove to somewhere like Greenacre - somewhere so affluent - I was having some difficulty disconnecting fifteen-year-old Layla from the current Layla. 

I was eager to be close to Harry as soon as I could; rushing to his side the moment I got out of the car. Other than a gentle touch of his hand on my shoulder whenever he'd asked questions, he had pretty much - figuratively and literally - taken a back seat all afternoon, so it was good to feel his kiss on my temple as he asked, "Are you okay? You must be exhausted."

Wordlessly, I looked at him and reached for his hand, finding comfort even just on the feel of his cold rings against my skin. I exhaled heavily and told him, "I am." 

"Say the word, and we'll go, okay?"

Walking into Bianca's parents' house, feeling nervous and apprehensive about meeting her family, that feeling doubled when we were greeted with what felt like a party atmosphere. There were children running around, lots of loud conversations and laughter, and the unmistakable tell of a party; people spilling out from the kitchen. There weren't just a few members of her immediate family - Harry and I were at a fully-fledged family gathering.

Bianca glanced at me with panic in her eyes. "I am so sorry. Mum must have gotten over-excited. She was nervous about meeting you..."

Again, I forced a smile and shoved down the growing worry in my tummy that things were not going to end well - the same one that had kept me awake almost all night. Because, despite my worries, I found myself wanting to put her at ease, and reassure her that it wasn't a problem. I'd been doing it all day, I wanted to prove to her that I could be a good sister. 

"It's fine!" I told her, "I mean, we've gotten the heavy stuff out of the way, right?" 

My sister nodded her head, tight-lipped as she shrugged off her jacket. 

As Harry helped me take off my coat, he whispered that everything was going to be okay, and I told myself that all things considered, the day had been perfectly pleasant, so what was the worst that could happen by meeting her entire family? But when I turned to look at Harry, I realised that it was him I was most concerned about. He hadn't even met most of the people I considered family, so I was nervous about a bunch people I didn't even know. 

Suddenly there was a loud gasp, and a woman rushed towards us, pulling the strings of her apron undone before discarding it on one of the hallway chairs.

"B! You should have told me you were on your way home!" the woman lightly scolded.

"And you should have told me you'd invited half of Liverpool, Mum." 

Bianca's grumbled retort under her breath fell on deaf ears as the woman I now realised was her adopted mother, Irene, turned her entire focus on me. She was short with a ginger, frizzy perm, and big, Deirdre Barlow glasses. Taking me in with a beaming smile, she already looked tearful as she gently placed her delicate hands on my shoulders. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to meet you, Layla," she said, after a moment of just letting her eyes wander over my face. Stepping back slightly, so she could look between Bianca and me, she then marvelled, "You look so alike. I mean, I know I've seen pictures, but seeing you two together. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I'm made up you're here! Come on, everyone wants to meet you."

-

Despite the awkward start to the evening, The Lawrence's welcomed Harry and I like old friends. Harry got to briefly meet Finn, and before he was taken upstairs for bedtime (Finn, not Harry), they were firm friends. A few people did ask Harry for a picture, and he happily obliged, but Bianca's father, Mark, warned them that they weren't to post anything until he and I left. 

He'd then hugged us both to his side and told us, "You're both one of us now! We'll even forgive you for being a Man-U supporter, Harry!"

Rolling her eyes, Irene took a gentle hold of my elbow and pulled me into the conversation, "Layla, can I ask if you know the reasons behind Bianca's names? I couldn't believe it when she came to us and we found out her middle name was Irene!" She looked at her adopted daughter and smiled softly, "It felt like kismet."

"Do we have to do this now?" Bianca said, sullenly. 

"Paula was a big music fan, she'd especially listen to a lot of older, rockier stuff. Bianca was after Bianca Jagger, and Irene was Ollie's mother's name." There was awkwardness at the mention of the man who'd thought Bianca was his daughter, so I joked to her, "You're so lucky you didn't get Winifred!"

To my relief, everyone laughed, but I noticed again that Bianca's was tense. I was beginning to think that I'd overstayed my welcome and that maybe it was time for Harry and me to leave. 

As if to confirm my suspicions, my little sister cleared her throat, mumbled something to Elis, and walked away. 

"Is she alright?" I asked him, "Should I go check on her?"

"I think it's all been a lot for her to take in," he replied, awkwardly. Of course, he knew more. "Maybe you should go speak to her."

Seeing Harry was perfectly happy chatting with Mark about football, I got up from my chair, and followed Bianca out into the conservatory. She sighed when she saw me walk into the chilly, dimly-lit room, and it was as though she no longer had the energy to pretend she didn't loathe me.

It was too late for me to just turn on my heel and leave her alone, so I tentatively asked, "Are you alright? Do you want me to leave?"

Running her fingers through her chin-length blonde hair, her reply was cold, "Do what you want."

Gone was the sweet, bubbly girl who'd taken a selfie with me outside of Buckingham Palace; who'd told me she loved me after asking if she could come to Terry's funeral to be by my side. This was how I'd expected her to be. When I'd tried to imagine what she was like before she'd turned up on my doorstep, I'd pictured this young woman who was filled with rage because the people she'd depended on as a baby had let her down, I had let her down. 

I'd thought that going back to our old home, where we had lived with the woman who had given birth to us, had brought us close together, again, but it hadn't, it had done the opposite. I knew that what I needed to do was to leave her be, but I couldn't. I couldn't walk away and risk losing her. 

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Bianca scoffed, flashing a scathing look in my direction. Suddenly, rage burst from her. "Are you fucking joking? Upset me? Maybe I should ask Mum to get out the photo albums for you to look at, so you can see the scars and blisters from the nappy you let me sit in. Or she can tell you about how I cried almost nonstop for months because I didn't understand where my big sister and mother had gone." Opening my mouth to respond, nothing came out, so she continued. "Or how about I get Chris and Ivy to tell you about the times they found me crying in school because the kids in my class had been bullying me about being adopted and that my mum had been a drug addict - all of which they'd heard from their mothers." 

It was my worst nightmare coming true - Bianca hated me for the decisions I'd made. What made it doubly-worse was that I felt trapped and unable to leave. I couldn't go get Harry without everyone else seeing I was upset, and then the questions would begin. Listening to my sister as she unloaded years of anger, abandonment, and despise in my direction, I could only stand and take it whilst wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

"I- I'm sorry," I managed to say, trying desperately not to cry. "If I could go back, then, of course, I would do things differently, but..."

"But then you wouldn't have your fancy house in London, best mates with your bisexual ex-husband, and your shitty pop star boyfriend who's not much older than I am."

"Was it you?" With her words feeling like a backhand to the face, I heard myself asking the question I'd been putting off asking her for months. "Did you leak my relationship with Harry to the press?"

Bianca looked at me stunned for a second, disbelieving I had the audacity to ask her such a question. 

"Oh fuck off, Layla!" she sneered, "I nearly died because you just sat there and did fucking nothing. I had those scars for years! All while you swanned off to fucking Ibiza!" 

"It wasn't like that. At all. I did what I thought was best."

"You must think I'm fucking stupid! You did it for your own benefit, and you know it. I don't buy your Little Miss Innocent act for one minute."

Tears pooled in my eyes and spilt down onto my cheeks as I took in what she was saying, and what she thought of me. I could feel my heart fracturing into tiny pieces, and I felt completely at a loss as to what I could say that would change her mind. 

Preparing for the worst, - noticing that she hadn't answered me the first time - I asked her for a second time, "Did you go to the press?"

"No, I fucking didn't, but I wish I had." Leaning forward, she pointed her finger at me and looked at me with pure, unadulterated hate. "We both know I would have been well within my right to go to the papers because I don't owe you anything after what you did to me. Not. A. Fucking. Thing."

"Bianca, I-" 

I was about to remind her that if it hadn't been for me, she'd have died a lot sooner - because Paula had certainly been in no state to take care of her - but decided against it. She didn't want to hear it, so it would probably only anger her further. 

"Is everything okay?" Elis' voice came from behind me, catching both mine and Bianca's attention and breaking the tension a little. "We heard shouting."

He was standing in the doorway of the conservatory when I turned to look at him, and to my sweet relief, I also saw Harry. I could stay and fight it out with the sister who so clearly hated me, or I could leave before she and I both said anything more we might regret. She hadn't changed my opinion about if it was her who went to the press, - in fact, she'd only made me suspect her more, and made it all the more important to get Harry out of there - and I hadn't changed her opinion about the choice I'd made as a traumatised fifteen-year-old. 

"It's fine," I muttered, glancing at Bianca. "I think it's time Harry and I left."

A mocking, disgusted smile appeared on her face, and for a split-second, I felt like I was looking at Paula. I turned to leave, finding it hard not to cry when I heard her say, "That's it, Layla! Do what you do best and run away."

Spinning back around, I felt my temper snap despite my tight grip on it. "I was fifteen-years-old, Bianca, and I'd just found my mum's dead body. I was damaged. I couldn't have looked after you, even if I wanted to. So, while you're forming all these ideas about what and why I did what I did, remember that you'd have ended up dead or in care, a lot sooner had I not done everything I could do to look after you. Because where was Paula? Oh, yeah, she was too busy injecting shit into her veins." My voice cracked as I told her, "You weren't old enough to remember what it was like, and you have no idea what it was like before you came along."

After giving her one last look, I turned on my heel and left. As I muttered my apologies to Elis and asked him to thank Mark and Irene, my legs were shaking. 

I had to get out of that house, and I had to get out of Liverpool. 


	35. Sonnet

The fight with Bianca hung heavy on my heart, she'd sent me a message apologising for how harsh she'd been, and for what she'd said about Harry, but the words had still cut deep. I didn't blame her for feeling the way she did, I understood it perfectly, but I'd allowed myself to hope that she held no resentment for my decision, and it hurt my soul to know all the worries I'd had were true. I could only hope that we would be able to move past it when she was ready because I wasn't sure I could cope with losing her again.

Despite waking with a heavy, grey cloud over my head, Harry and I stuck to our plans of going to Goostrey and, finally, going to my grandparents' house. I had hoped that Bianca would come with us, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as we sat outside in the car and I made no move to get out.

"I just need a minute." My voice shook, moments away from bursting into tears and telling him I couldn't do it. 

As if he could read my mind, he said, "Lil, you can do this. I'm here, we can do this together."

Looking at him, I chewed my bottom lip and nodded. I had to do it, of that I was certain. I knew that if I didn't make myself do it at that precise moment, then there was a chance I could never go inside that house again. But I was scared; scared of the emptiness, scared of the hollow feeling of regret at all the things I'd missed that I knew would hit me the moment I stepped through the door, scared of the ghosts of people I'd spent a lifetime trying to push to the back of my thoughts because the love I felt for them was too much. I was scared of fully breaking apart and Harry seeing me like that.

But I had to do it.

Forcing my hand to move, I opened the passenger door and got out of the car. Harry was quick to do the same, coming to my side as I stepped onto the pavement and looked up at the house properly. It looked pretty much the same, just smaller, and the garden looked a little overgrown.

I gave Harry one last look for reassurance, then pushed open the metal gate. 

Seeing my hands shaking as we reached the front door, he held his hand out for the key, "Do you want me to open the door?" 

"No, I think I can do it," I replied, not entirely convincing myself that I could get the key in the lock without several attempts. 

Somehow I managed it, and like a horror movie, I stood still as the door slowly opened. Neither of us moved from the doorway for a second, and I was grateful that Harry seemed to be happy with taking my lead for the moment. I stared into the hallway, at the dark, oak staircase that led upstairs, the kitchen door was at the far end, slightly ajar, and on the left were the doors for the front room and dining room. The walls were still an apple green colour, and the dark but colourful paintings of flowers were still hung up. I'd half expected to feel like I had when I saw the flat in Liverpool, but all I felt was sweet familiarity and a feeling of having come to the closest thing I'd ever had to a happy home as a child.

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up in a minute," I said in a hush, stepping over the threshold and turning to watch as Harry joined me in a sweeter part of my past. "I sometimes dream I'm trying to get here, but I wake up before I get through the door, or it's busy and crowded and just isn't how it was-" touching the walls and feeling the lined texture of the fabric-like wallpaper, I said more to myself than him- "but this is real."

We moved from room to room downstairs, and Harry cooed over my school pictures - which were still on show like Bianca had said they were - or listened as I remembered little flashes of things I'd long forgotten. He held my hand as I stood in the glass, lean-to conservatory and looked out over the garden. I'd spent hours playing in that garden, I'd taken my first steps on the grass, had picnics with Paula and my grandparents, and climbed the apple tree which hung over from next door's garden. It looked grey and cold in the mid-December afternoon, brambles and bindweed having overtaken the flowerbeds, and the trees bare except for a few golden coloured die-hard leaves. But as I pictured all the vibrant colours of the flowers and the lush greens, and how happy I'd felt, my heart warmed.

Upstairs, I went into the front bedroom, which had belonged to my grandparents. The heavy bed was stripped of bedding, but other than that and the eerie stillness that ran through the entire house, nothing much had changed.

Harry hovered by the door as I wandered over to the dressing table that still had a half-empty bottle of my grandmother's perfume on it. I picked up the bottle, took off the lid and put my nose to it, smelling the scent I'd never really forgotten. 

After a moment, I turned and looked at the bed, "I was born in this room. On that bed." 

"Really?"

"Yeah, and so was Paula." Looking at Harry, I shrugged, "I think Granny had been a nurse, or even maybe a midwife. I can't quite remember."

"I guess that explains why you were born at home and not in a hospital," he offered.

I nodded that he was probably right and sat down on the dressing room chair. I'd come to the house with the idea of looking through photographs, finding all I could about my family history, but I didn't want to, anymore. I didn't want to disturb the stillness, and there was a part of me that felt that because I'd been away for so long I didn't have the right to go rummaging. Bianca had shown me my grandmother's will, and everything had been left to both of us, but I still didn't quite feel like I had a right to any of it. Really, we were the two sides of the same coin; I did have a right because I'd been born in that house, I had numerous memories of being there, of it feeling like the only place that was a real home, but while Bianca didn't have any of that, she had been around for the last few years of Granny's life, looking after her, and looking after the house after she'd gone. She'd told me she didn't come to the house often, but there wasn't any of the expected mustiness that was usually in a house that had been left unoccupied, she came and took care of the house, she didn't let it sit and decay.

Harry wandered over to me, making me realise I'd been sitting and staring at the bed for a long time. He touched my hair, hand stroking down to settle on my back until I leaned against him. "Do you want to keep looking? Or do you want me to leave you alone for a little?"

"No, no, I don't want you to go. I'm okay." I looked up at him and wished he'd been coming with me to meet my grandparents. I didn't even know if they'd have liked him, he was so charming that it was hard to not like him, but I didn't know the kind of people they were, just who they were with me. Sniffing, I stood up and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for doing this with me."

"Lil, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than with you right now, you know that," he replied, enveloping me in his arms and kissing my temple. 

"I know. But, thank you."

Having gone through the whole house, we headed back downstairs to the kitchen. I wanted to see if I could find some things of mine from when I was a baby, and some photographs, but I needed a break from the barrage of memories. Sitting at the table, I finally brought up the conversation I'd had with Bianca that had spurred the sudden exit the night before.

"I don't think Bianca went to the press," I said suddenly, studying the grain in the wood of the table instead of looking Harry in the eye. "I was almost one-hundred percent sure it was, but... I don't think she'd do that to herself and her family."

"But I thought... " He paused, brow crinkled in confusion before relaxing it and asking, "What changed your mind?"

"She's angry with me for the decision I made to separate us, for not getting us help when we were," I shuddered at the memory, "well, you know when. The reason she'd stopped talking to me as much was because of everything I'd told her; because she'd gotten the information she needed, but was still angry."

Reaching across the table, Harry placed his hand on mine as I paused to get my breath. I'd managed this whole time without crying, but picturing Bianca's face as she told me about her scars was almost enough to make me bawl. 

Harry asked, "She's got to understand that it wasn't an easy choice, right?" 

"I think there's a part of her that does. Like, she hears and understands my points, but then there's another part of her that couldn't imagine ever being able to make that decision." I looked out through the kitchen window to the garden, seeing it was getting dark, wishing I could go back to being the carefree child helping my granny with her gardening. "We're different people, and she's the one who was essentially left behind. She knows what it feels like to be abandoned, so can't imagine being able to separate herself from someone she loves."

"You were abandoned, too, Lil. And maybe I am biased, but you did what you had to do." His fingers linked with mine, our matching nails looking almost silly and frivolous during such a difficult conversation. "I don't want you to beat yourself up over a decision you had to make when you were far too young to make it. Is it the one you'd make now? No. Was it the right one at that time, after everything you'd just gone through? Yes."

He was right, and I knew it deep down, but still, I couldn't shake the guilt. "I know that, and you know that, but she just sees it differently. She has every right to feel the way she does, and I just have to ride out the anger. As I said when I told her everything; I had years to come to terms with what happened, she's only just getting the full story."

Harry nodded his head, then, after a moment of looking pensive, said, "So why don't you think she did it?"

"She was so angry yesterday that had she done it she would have gladly thrown it in my face. She looked like she almost wished she'd made some money from it if I already thought she was capable."

He grimaced at my response, seeing how deeply her words had cut me. They had hurt, but there was a part of me that was glad because it let me see her without a wall. 

"I wish I'd known what was going on, but I wanted you two to have a moment alone."

With a heavy, resolved sigh, I stood up to go turn the kitchen light on so that he and I weren't sat in the dark. "No, it needed to happen. If that's how she feels, then I need to know that so I can give her the space she needs. She distanced herself because she needed to process what I told her." 

Flicking the light on, I glanced at the yearly planner from 2016, which had come from the milkman, and spotted my birthday still marked on it. I felt a refreshed resolve that I would give my sister the space she needed, but that I wouldn't let her disappear from my life altogether, again. She and I had lost so much already, we had to do whatever we could to prevent losing more, to salvage some kind of relationship from the wreckage that was our childhood. 

"Do you think she'll be able to move on?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," moving to stand behind him, I wrapped my arms around his neck as I laid my head on his, "but the fact she apologised for how angry she got has to mean that there's hope. Right?"

"Definitely." 

-

We left just after seven, armed with a few photo albums, some of my things from when I was a baby, and a few other mementoes that I thought Bianca wouldn't miss. I'd agreed with Harry when he'd said he was getting hungry, but really, food was the farthest thing from my mind. Even his wild driving as we drove through the winding and bendy country lanes in the pitch-black darkness didn't make me as nervous as it normally would have.

Needing to change the thoughts in my head before we got back to Anne's, I said, "Remembering that I am sad so you have to be nice-"

Harry let out a laugh, quickly glancing at me. "I'm nice to you all of the time."

"That's very true, except when I bring up Will."

Grumbling, he muttered, "Okay, fair point."

I placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. "I just want to make sure you're going to be okay with him at Christmas. I know it's not your idea of a great time, but he's already told me he'll be on his best behaviour."

"You do realise it's not me who's the problem, right?" Harry asked, slightly incredulous at the suggestion he would be anything other than lovely to my ex-husband who had kissed me only a few months before, and who possibly leaked our relationship and my life story to the press. 

"I know, and I've warned him already that if he decides to start trouble that he'll be walking back home from Brighton." I tried to cajole him into laughing, but his face remained unimpressed. "But he doesn't want to have any animosity between the two of you, baby, he feels dreadful."

"Good! 

"Harry..."

"I mean it! He should feel bad. Layla, he kissed you. While I was in the house." Pulling up to a junction, and because there weren't any other cars around, he stopped so he could look at me. "If it had been anyone else but him, maybe, maybe, I could have gotten over it, but... I'm sorry, Lil, I know you're insistent that he's going to be around you, but I won't be forgiving him any time soon."

As we began to move again, I didn't say anything. It felt like an impossible situation, I wanted both of them to be there at the cottage, and it was so cheesy but I just wanted everyone to get along and have fun. It would be mine and Harry's first Christmas together, and Will's first one without Terry; I really didn't want to have to choose between the two of them. Harry would win, hands down, but I hated the very idea of having to do it, and of Will being on his own.

"Baby, I'm not asking you to forgive him, I just want to know if you'll at least be cordial so there isn't an uncomfortable atmosphere." I quietly added, "I don't want to fall out with you over this, either. I'm not trying to argue with you."

Sighing, Harry said, "Of course I'll be nice, I'm not going to do anything to embarrass or upset you."

"That's all I need to know. There's going to be plenty of other people, so if you don't want to talk to him then you won't have to." Raising my hand to stroke the nape of his neck. "You could never embarrass me. I can't wait for everyone to meet you."

We drove in silence for a while, and for a moment I seriously considered the possibility of calling Will in the morning and asking if he was okay making other arrangements for Christmas. It was not something I wanted to do, but the last thing I wanted was Harry to be uncomfortable because of Will, especially when he was going to be away from his family. Maybe Will could spend the day with Mia and her family, it's possibly what they would have done if Terry was still alive, and maybe he'd enjoy spending time with her. 

Nearing Anne's, Harry said, "After all this time, he's still one of the only reasons we fight."

I exhaled heavily. He was right. "That's not true. We fight over you hogging the bed covers."

"You think I hog them because I'm trying to get them back from you.

Again, he was right. We pulled up outside Anne's house, and although the car had come to a stop, neither one of us made any move to leave the car. Our conversation wasn't over.

"Would you prefer it if I asked him not to come?" I asked.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I wou- Harry, is that what you want?"

He paused, playing with his car keys as he thought. Shaking his head, he answered, "No. It's his first Christmas without Terry, he shouldn't be by himself."

"Did it hurt to say that?" I teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"A little." I was relieved to see a small smile play on his lips as he turned his head to press them against mine. "Would you really ask him not to come?"

"If you honestly didn't want him there, then yes, of course I would. I love Will, but you're my priority." Bumping his nose with mine, I touched his face and kissed him deeply. Pulling away just a little, I told him, "I want our Christmas to be perfect, baby, and I want you to have the best time with my family."

"It will be perfect, Lil."


	36. Merry Christmas Baby

Lucky. That's the word that popped into my head as I looked around the large, softly-lit living room, taking in the view of my closest friends - my chosen family - as they watched _'The Muppets Christmas Carol'_ and laughed.

Dressed in cosy festive pyjamas, drinking boozy hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream, and bathed in a comforting, twinkly glow from the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, it was an almost magical moment to see everyone cosied up on the insanely large sofa. Rose and Dee were sat on one end, wearing the white and silver pyjamas I'd bought for them, next to them was Rose's mother, Carol, who had reluctantly agreed to wear a jumper with a snowman on the front, then there was Will in his Santa onesie and reindeer antlers, and on the other end was Rose's two younger sisters, Violet and Iris - quietly arguing over the last green triangle in the Quality Street tin.

"'You okay?" Harry mumbled in my ear, noticing that I wasn't paying attention to the film.

He and I sat together in an oversized armchair; more than happy for the opportunity to sit as close as possible. Legs outstretched onto the accompanying footstool, his fluffy, snowman-socked feet sat next to mine, and his arm laid across my chest as I leant back against him.

I turned my head to look up at him, which prompted him to kiss my forehead and tighten his hold around my upper body. Leaning up to kiss him, I ignored Iris' retching noises from behind me, and touched Harry's cheek, whispering, "I'm more than okay, I couldn't be happier."

**-**

It had been a wonderful day from the moment Harry and I had set off from London on our journey to the Sussex coast. There was lots of singing and laughter as we drove, listening to Christmas music the entire way. We judged each other on some questionable favourites, and got excited when we agreed a song was great or terrible, we did terrible impersonations of all the different voices on the 1984 version of ' _Band Aid_ ', and duetted to Nicole Kidman's and Robbie Williams' cover of _'Something Stupid'_. It was fun, and everything I wanted on a festive road trip.

Harry and I arrived early so that I could meet the owners of the house and get shown around, as well as then giving me time to set everything I had planned in place before the others arrived. The house was just half an hour outside of Brighton, so it was perfectly located for when we moved to stay at the hotel on the seafront for the wedding. There were extensive grounds surrounding the white, picture-perfect country house; rolling hills with wooded areas, and access to a tennis court should we fancy braving the cold. Inside the house itself, the rooms were bright, cosy and welcoming, and decorated beautifully for Christmas. And, because the house was already decorated, all I had to do - roping in a surprisingly willing Harry to help me - was add all the little touches that I hoped would make our time there extra special. (I'd dragged Vicky around Primark like a woman possessed, picking up lots of fun, silly things that erred on the tacky side, but to me was everything I loved about Christmas.)

Harry watched with amusement as I whizzed around the kitchen, putting the champagne I'd brought in the fridge so the others could be welcomed with a glass when they arrived, talking to myself, and making sure that everything was present and correct in the gift bags I needed to take upstairs. Violet and Iris had been tasked with bringing food and alcohol from the list the three of us had agreed on, so I didn't have to worry about that until they showed up.

"Right!" I said, clapping my hands as I glanced at Harry to see if he was ready to be loaded with the bags. Seeing his amused smirk, my cheeks reddened, "What? I just want everything to be amazing."

He held up his hands, "Nothing. I just like watching you when you go into work mode. Also, you don't have anything to worry about, baby, everything will be wonderful."

Heading upstairs, I left Harry in charge of the brides-to-be's room, while I limited the chance of arguments by assigning rooms with personalised gift bags and festive pyjamas left on all the beds. When I returned - semi-prepared to fix whatever Harry had done - I found him finishing carefully arranging dried, red and white rose petals in a heart shape on the bed. He had placed their gifts in front of their pillows and had tied the diamond ring foil balloon to the headboard.

I waited for him to finish, then he turned to me with a proud smile, holding his arms out in the direction of his handy work so that I could give him my verdict, "Ta-Da!"

"Perfect! You're hired!"

"Well, at least I know if this singing lark doesn't work out, I can always come work for you."

"I do need an errand boy," I teased as we made our way to our room. "How are you with a photocopier?"

"It's quite sexy thinking about you being my boss."

After taking our bags upstairs, and quickly freshening up, we both changed into the matching red, tartan pyjamas I'd chosen for us to wear. Buttoning up the shirt halfway, so almost all of his tattoos disappeared, he looked at me sceptically.

"I feel like I'm about 7," he laughed.

"Aw! Don't you like them? I think you look cute."

"Hmm," was his only response; a low grumble as he sat on the edge of the bed. Quiet for a moment as he rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, he watched me dress then said, "Our first Christmas together."

We had made it to Christmas, and we were only a few months away from our first anniversary. It was something I hadn't allowed myself to envisage at the beginning - he and I had broken up before Christmas, and so had Joel and me, I didn't have a great track record for relationships when it came to that time of year. However, while I was all too aware that the hammer could fall at any moment, I was also really beginning to believe that Harry and I honestly could have a future together. We felt stronger and stronger as a couple every day. Of course we bickered about silly things, and we annoyed each other, and we had an ongoing difference of opinion about peas, but otherwise, things were as close to perfect as possible.

I loved him with all my heart, and it was getting harder and harder to imagine him not being an integral part of my life, and me in his.

Wandering over to stand in front of him, Harry took hold of my hand and pulled me to sit on his lap. "Excited?" he asked, caressing my cheek.

"Very."

Christmases, when I was a child, hadn't always been particularly great, but the ones that I had loved were when my mother and I had gone to spend it with my grandparents. Their tree hadn't changed since the mid-sixties, it was a silver artificial tree that they had bought for the first Christmas Paula was old enough to remember. The ornaments were glass or plastic in bright colours, breaking up the added shimmer from the silver angel hair, and the lights were just as colourful, with small plastic surroundings so each bulb looked like a flower. Loving Harry had always felt like the Christmases I'd spent in that house in Goostrey; the lights comfortably low, feeling excited for what was to come next as I looked at the tree in all its twinking, glittering, magical splendour. Being with him, I felt like I was a kid again, or rather an adult who'd just found out that Santa was real all along. And, for the first time since I was a child, I was excited about Christmas for more than just getting drunk and eating too much.

I realised as he cradled my jaw and kissed me deeply that I had been so focused on my role as maid of honour that I'd completely forgotten to savour being alone with him. I returned his kiss fervently, wondering if maybe we had time to make use of an empty house with nobody around to hear us - something we hadn't been able to enjoy since Italy.

As if reading my mind, Harry mumbled between kisses as his hand left my cheek and started to unbutton my shirt, "I want you, Lil. I want you before the others get here."

His hand slipped under the fabric to touch my breast, and desire quickly unravelled in me. However, as much as I wanted him to continue, I had to stop him.

"I'm sorry, baby," I groaned, as his thumb circled over my hardening nipple, making it even more difficult to tug at his wrist to stop. "They're going to be here any minute, Dee messaged that they're about five minutes away."

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I can be that quick."

Giggling, I redid my buttons "I'm sure you could. Later. If you're good."

"Shame. I was going to give you your Christmas present, too."

"We've been over this, Harry, your dick alone no longer qualifies as a gift."

I laughed, and Harry laughed along with me. Then, after he pulled me back in for another kiss that almost managed to persuade me into letting my friends fend for themselves, I somehow managed to prise myself from his arms, and off his lap, so we could go downstairs. He followed suit and stood up.

Stretching his arms up and over his head, he waited for me to get to by the door before casually saying, "I actually meant the one that's hidden under your pillow." I was back over to the bed in a flash, eager to get an early gift, but Harry's arms stopped me as they encircled around my upper body. He took great pleasure in telling me as I tried to wriggle free, "Sorry, Lil, you missed your chance."

"You're mean," I pouted, giving up, and slipping from his grasp as I heard the honking of car horns from outside. "That, Harry Styles, is not treating people with kindness."

"Aww, poor little Layla!" Coming towards me as I backed towards the door, trying hard not to giggle at him baby-talking me. He caught hold of my face with both hands and stood as close as he could. "You can open it later."

"Promise?"

"Promise. I just want us to be alone when you do."

Just as I was about to ask him why, the sound of _'Last Christmas'_ being bellowed by my friends as they piled into the hallway distracted me. I was certain I would understand Harry's want for privacy when the time came, I quickly kissed him, and grabbed hold of his hand so our Christmas could begin.

**-**

I was excited for Harry to meet my chosen family properly. He had already met Violet and Iris in Ibiza, and they'd given him a light interrogation there, but I knew that he'd be getting what was "affectionately" named as 'The Fullerton Family Welcome' - something all new boyfriends/girlfriends got when they were brought home to meet the family. Thankfully, despite knowing all of this, Harry seemed excited to meet them, too, even though I sensed some nervousness as we headed downstairs to greet everyone.

The group were in high spirits, all of them singing at the top of their lungs as they shook off their coats and loaded their things from the cars into the hall. Seeing Harry and I descend the stairs in our pyjamas, there was an almighty cheer and a cry of "Get in there, Lil!" from Iris. A flurry of hugs and kisses and season's greetings were then exchanged, and a general air of excitement for our festivities floated above us.

"This place is stunning, Lil," Rose beamed as she tearfully hugged me. "Thank you."

In the week running up to Christmas, she'd been getting emotional about everything, and it wasn't just because she was exhausted from a huge number of Christmas parties, as well as having a wedding to plan. I had gotten the same way as my wedding to Will had gotten near, knowing that while nothing was really about to change, everything was about to change. She was about to marry the love of her life, and it was making her highly emotional.

"I just hope you have the best time." Holding her hand, I felt relief that she was happy. She had done so much for me, and I wanted everything to be more than perfect for her and Dee.

"Of course I will, we all will." Her attention was caught elsewhere, and I turned to look as Carol hooked her arm with Harry's and went to lead him into the living room. Rose came quickly to the rescue. "Mum, leave him alone! Layla wants to show you your room."

The word 'room' caught everyone's attention from their conversations. While Harry escaped Carol's grasp and went into the kitchen to deal with the champagne, I took everybody upstairs to their rooms for them to get settled and comfortable so the party could really begin.

**-**

Back downstairs, glasses of bubbly in hand, and decked out in the festive paraphernalia I'd insisted everyone wear, we toasted to Christmas and Rose and Dee. However, despite my best efforts to keep Carol from getting her hands on Harry, they were all in vain. Eventually, all I could do was stand with Rose, Dee, and Will, and watch as the Fullerton matriarch sat Harry down on the sofa, - Violet and Iris flanking either side of him - and cranked up her threatening Cockney act to a full eleven.

"So," Carol said, sitting on the edge of the chunky, wooden coffee table opposite him so they were knee to knee, "Layla tells me you're a musician?"

Harry nodded and glanced at me, seemingly looking to make sure I was present to step in if this small but intimidating woman brought out the knuckle dusters or a flick knife. I gave him an encouraging smile, knowing that he was probably going to be fine, but I couldn't help worry that they'd say something which would send him running for the hills. (When they'd done the family welcome to Joel, Dee had acted as a distraction so I hadn't been present, but he hadn't said a word the whole drive home. Rose afterwards had said that they'd actually been pretty gentle with him because it was pretty obvious he was nothing like Will or Harry, and he clearly adored me.)

"He'll be fine," Dee whispered, reassuringly placing a hand on my back. She had gone through the experience herself, so I was slightly more inclined to believe her.

Carol continued, "My husband was a musician, and a bloody good one at that. Play your own instruments, do you?"

"I try to," Harry replied with a small, nervous smile. "I've heard Rose play, she's better than me."

"Oh that's 'cause my Alf taught her. But that's good, good to play your own instruments." She nodded her head and smiled. "The problem I had with my husband being in a band - God rest his soul - was all the birds trying to throw themselves at him. He was a bugger for it when we first met."

"Mum!" Rose hissed, knowing where the line of questioning was leading to. She then muttered to me, "I told you not to get her that Krays DVD," causing me to snort into my drink.

Carol flashed us a look over her shoulder that silenced us like naughty school children, but it was hard not to laugh when I saw both Iris and Violet's sour grimace at the thought of their father being some kind of rock and roll sex god. As soon as her attentions were back on Harry, Rose and I started sniggering and elbowing each other to lay blame.

"You don't have that problem anymore, do you Harry?"

"He used to," Violet piped up, leaning on Harry's shoulder.

"He broke our dear Layla's heart, he did," added Iris, apparently turning into one of the children from 'Oliver!'.

I knew it was all a kind of initiation process, something that Carol's father and brother had done when she'd taken Rose's father home to meet her parents, and it was something she'd carried on with her children. I knew they all regretted not having done it when I first introduced them to Will because they'd only known me a short while and didn't think I'd take kindly to the ritual. I also knew it was merely meant to be an invitation to know that any nonsense would not be tolerated, especially because of what had happened with Will. However, whilst Harry didn't look too uncomfortable, _I_ didn't want things he and I had moved on from being brought back up. Especially not at Christmas.

"Alright Jeremy Paxman, you've got the part," I tried, moving closer to try and stop them.

From behind me, I heard Rose gasp at my audacity, and when Carol flashed me a look, if I didn't know better, I would have been scared for my life. It was easy to see where my best friend got her ability to strike fear with a withering look from.

"I haven't even started," she replied with a wink, face softening for a split-second before turning stern again and looking at Harry as he sat forward. Patting his knee, "We're just getting to know you, Harry, making sure you're good enough for my daughter."

"Mrs Fullerton," he said, "I made a lot of mistakes, but I promise you that I will never hurt Layla again."

She carefully eyed him, and I saw the two younger Fullerton daughters exchange looks. If Harry was intimidated, he was doing a good job of hiding it. He spoke with absolute certainty, that once again reinforced my belief that we were on the right path this time around.

"And you plan on making her an honest woman?"

"That ship already sailed," I heard Will mutter, making Rose and Dee giggle.

I turned around and gave him the finger, as Harry told Carol, "The minute she lets me; absolutely."

I already knew it, but hearing him say it to the whole room - but more importantly to the woman who was vaguely threatening to break his kneecaps if he was lying - undeniably gave me butterflies. Harry confidently telling my family that he planned on marrying me the moment I was ready, made the idea all the more real, and exciting.

Carol's smile betrayed her menacing act. Meanwhile, Iris and Violet looked at me from behind Harry's back and gave me the thumbs up I had wanted, and then quickly changed to giving me the rude finger in hole gestures I could have done without.

Grinning, I shook my head in amusement and felt completely blessed to have these people in my life looking out for my best interests. "Okay, is there anything else? Or can we move onto the actual Fullerton family welcome?"

Harry looked at me nervously, "This wasn't it?"

"You'll like the next part, baby, I promise."

"Alright, Mum, you can stop now," Rose interjected.

Instantly, the atmosphere changed, and Carol was cupping Harry's cheeks in her dainty hands, "Welcome to the family, Harry."

His cheeks flushed pink as he grinned at her, breathing a sigh of relief as Iris and Violet simultaneously hugged him. Interrogation over, it was time for the part I knew Harry would like.

Having disappeared into the kitchen, Rose reappeared with the customary bottle of whatever was whoever's favourite tipple in one hand, and a tray of shot glasses in the other. They rattled against the flat surface as she danced into the room, singing, "Tequila! It makes me happy!"

"They're not going to make me drink from all those glasses, are they?" Harry asked, coming to stand by my side, having been released by the Fullerton three.

I slid an arm around his lower back and kissed his cheek, overwhelmed with how much I adored him. "No, you're fine, this is the nice part. We all do a shot of your favourite drink. Iris jokingly calls this The Communion because she compares it to drinking the blood of Christ."

"Here you go, Hazza!" Iris grinned, holding a glass aloft for Harry to take. "You have to have the first one."

"Please never call him that again," I told her, knowing full well she would ignore me forevermore.

With us all watching, Harry threw the golden brown liquid down his throat, sans salt and lemon. As he grimaced and shuddered, we all cheered loudly and followed suit. Harry had passed the test and was now a member of my wonderful, and slightly insane, family. 


	37. Step Into Christmas

Rose, Violet, Iris, Harry, and I were the last to go to bed; wanting to stay awake until midnight so we could toast to it technically being Christmas Day. (I had asked Will if he wanted to stay up, but I sensed that either he felt uncomfortable around Harry, or was trying not to make Harry uncomfortable.)

We drank and played card games, and Rose and Iris regaled Harry with the story of the time their grandfather, John, had tried to break up a fight between some old-time gangsters in his pie and mash shop by cracking one of them - who happened to be holding a gun at the time - over the head with a chair. 

"He said there was a split-second where he was like, 'Fucking ‘ell! That's a gun.'," Rose explained, "but he saw it as; kill or be killed, and they'd all be in there fighting if he backed down, so THWACK! On the head with a heavy, wooden chair. The bloke went down like a sack of spuds, and they all quickly cleared off. He got quite a bit of respect for that. One of the Krays, I don't know if it was Ronnie or Reggie, paid him a visit and his shop was sort of looked after that."

Turning to a slightly stunned Harry, Violet said in a mock whisper, "Layla says that's why the Fullerton girls all have a slight air of terror around them; it's the gangster blood." 

"I believe that!" Harry replied, warily eyeing the two angelic-looking sisters.

"Like butter wouldn't melt, but they'll slice you in an 'eartbeat!" I teased, affecting a voice not too dissimilar to Noel Fielding as The Hitcher. "You also couldn't get any more stereotypically cockney if you bloody tried! I should have found a pearly king and queen for the wedding or learnt to play the spoons. Maybe Harry can sing 'Roll Out The Barrow'!"

I ducked to hide behind a laughing Harry as both Rose and Iris went to throw Quality Street chocolates at me - a rogue, blue coconut one managing to pelt me on the knee. He turned and threw his body over mine, protecting me from further, fully deserved attack. The sound of his giggle in my ear, and the way he was getting on with everybody, made my chest warm.

We hadn't discussed it, but I'd been aware that Harry was somewhat apprehensive about being around people he didn't know very well over the holiday, especially when he was so used to being with family or friends who he trusted completely to just let him be himself. Thankfully - and both Rose and I had made certain that would be the case - he had nothing to worry about. Iris, Carol, and Violet weren't remotely interested in doing anything but treating him as a new member of the family and did so by teasing him mercilessly, just as we all did with each other. It came as no surprise to me that they already liked him. Carol had even quietly told me that the minute she'd seen him and I together, walking down the stairs, she knew he was who I was meant to be with. By the time our beds called, Harry was completely at ease, as if he'd always been there.

Stumbling upstairs to our room, tipsy and quietly singing 'Merry Xmas Everybody' between giggles, we quickly got ready for bed and climbed in under the cold, cotton sheets and thick, heavy duvet. There were no lustful intentions as we huddled up close for warmth, sleep and affection prevailing over any desire. The day had been long, and enough alcohol had been consumed, that we were happy to just be in bed together with slumber only moments away.

Lazily giving me a kiss that tasted of toothpaste and traces of tequila, Harry hugged me tightly and mumbled, "Merry Christmas, Lil. I love you so much."

"Merry Christmas, baby, I love you, too. Are you having fun so far?"

I waited for a reply, but he didn't answer, so I thought that maybe he had fallen asleep. Outside, rain had started to tap at the window, and I felt myself beginning to fall asleep, bathed in the warmth which was emanating off the sleeping body in my arms. Earlier I had felt unbelievably lucky, and now I felt unbelievably content; I was in a house filled with almost all of the people I loved the most, the love of my life was with me, it was Christmas, and in a few short days I would be celebrating two of my best friends getting married. Life would struggle to be any more perfect.

Stirring, Harry tilted his head up to kiss me again, "I'm having the best time. I love your family. Even if I was terrified for my life when they were interrogating me."

"Believe it or not, my love, they were actually easy on you," I smiled at him calling them 'my family'. They were my family, and I loved them with all my heart. "Good. And they love you, too." 

We kissed again, but this time he pushed up against me and slipped his hand under my pillow. Pulling away, he held something up in front of me that I could just about make out from the faint glow from the window. A shadow of what I guessed was a box, with a ribbon on top.

"I wrapped it myself," Harry said, proudly. "You can wait until morning if you want to."

The lamp was on, and I was sitting up before he could even finish his sentence. We both squinted as our eyes readjusted to the light, then he placed the gift on my lap. A rectangle-shaped box, wrapped with red and white striped paper. He hadn't lied when he'd said he had wrapped it himself; it was messy and there were creases in both the paper and the sellotape, but his attempt made it all the more special, so I unwrapped it like it was perfect. Removing the foil bow and putting it on Harry's forehead as he sat up to watch me, I carefully took off the wrapping to reveal a jewellery box. With slightly shaky hands, I carefully opened the box and almost instantly burst into tears. His want for me to open his gift when it was just him and I, alone, suddenly made sense.

Inside was a gold necklace with a pendant, a pendant that was an exact match to the opal ring that had belonged to my mother. 

"How did…? Harry, baby, this is...." Lost for something to say, I threw my arms around his neck and wept. I didn't know if Paula had ever had the matching necklace, there might never have even been one that matched as a set, but the fact he had found one was such a beautiful thing to do that all I could do was cry with how much I loved him.

Kissing my temple, Harry quietly explained, "I know you were worried about wearing the ring and it getting damaged. I thought about earrings, but you don't really wear them, but you always wear a necklace, so I had this made for you. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful, I love it. Thank you." Staring at the flickering flecks of colour in the stone at the centre, and the small diamonds which sparkled around it, I knew I would never be able to fully express how much I loved his gift. "Oh shit! My present feels so stupid in comparison, now!"

He shook his head and kissed my shoulder, "I will love whatever you get me, Lil. And the fact we get to share Christmas Day together, that's all I need."

"Will that be the case next year?" I asked, setting the gift on the bedside table, turning the light off, and laying down.

"Oh, no, absolutely not," he replied, coming back to settle in my awaiting arms. "Next year, I expect something incredibly fancy."

-

After years of it happening, I should have gotten used to Rose's usual wake-up call on Christmas morning. But, when our bedroom door crashed open and she bellowed "HE'S BEEN!!!" at the top of her voice, I still nearly leapt out of my skin in shock. 

Sitting up, I threw a cushion and profanities in her direction, but she was gone as quickly as she had come. With a manic cackle, she disappeared back downstairs to go play the usual choice of 'Step Into Christmas' as loud as possible so there was no option but to get up and go open presents. She'd done the same thing every Christmas morning since she was a child, and was adamant she would never do anything else. 

"I thought you were joking about her doing that," Harry grumbled next to me, his warm hand finding me and sliding up onto my tummy.

Elton John began playing downstairs, and I could hear various shouts and threats coming from the bedrooms below us. 

"Nope! Every. Single. Year." Flopping back down, I turned my head to look at him and my stomach fizzed seeing his sleepy face. "Merry Christmas."

A grin spread across his lips, and he prised one eye open to look at me. "Merry Christmas."

I reached up and brushed a lock of hair off his face, before stroking his cheek. "Our first of many, I hope." 

Harry let out a happy little hum and closed his eyes, "Definitely."

We tried to get a little frisky before having to get up and spend the day with people, but with Elton on repeat and the vocal anger directed at Rose as people emerged from their rooms was too much of a distraction. Reluctantly, we ventured out of the warmth of our bed and went to join everyone else, even if it was just so that we could hear a different song.

"Do you hate that song, Rose? Is that why you use it to get everyone up?" Harry inquired as we waited for Ivy and Violet (who were a little more practised at ignoring their older sister's behaviour every year) to join us in the living room.

Deeply offended, Rose replied, "How very dare you! That is the best Christmas song to have ever existed, and I use it to get everyone into the festive spirit! It's everyone else who has a problem with it, not me."

Chuckling, he pulled her into a hug: "I love you, Rose."

"Y'know what, Harry? As it's Christmas Day, I bloody love you, too!" She threw her arms around his body, returning his hug with equal affection and adoration before planting a big old kiss on his cheek. Hell had frozen over, and I was tempted to check the sky outside for pigs flying overhead - Harry and Rose were hugging and exchanging 'I love you's.

I gasped and grasped around for my phone, whilst trying not to take my eyes off the sight of my boyfriend and my best friend embracing and declaring their love for one another. "Where's my phone?! I need to capture this moment."

"On it!" said Will, phone in one hand - Mimosa in the other - and filming the whole scene.

Dee wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and whispered in wonderment, "It's a Christmas miracle!" 

Once Ivy and Violet were dragged from their beds, we all gathered by the tree with glasses of Buck's Fizz and exchanged gifts. There were smiles and squeals of delight aplenty as wrapping paper flew and presents were held aloft to show to everyone. Silly and frivolous gifts were opened first; clothing, bath and body, makeup and the like, then, the ones with sincere thought and care were handed over with genuine hope they would be appreciated.

Carol gave Rose the guitar which had belonged to her father and had been his prize possession, and along with it was a letter he'd written to be opened on her wedding day. 

"Mum!" She sniffed, wiping away her tears with annoyance, "You can't make me cry on Christmas!"

Mother and daughter hugged each other tightly, while the rest of us looked on and tried our best not to cry. Rose didn't talk about him often, but her father had been her idol growing up and had been the one who instilled in her the importance of her protecting her sisters when he was no longer around. On the rare occasion she did talk about him, she would say that the reason she fell in love with Dee, and one of the reasons she and I had clicked instantly and stayed friends, was because Dee and I both knew the importance of music, just as her dad had done. 

Next, Rose, Dee, and I gave Will a photo album we had put together which was filled with pictures of him and Terry. We had been worried that maybe the gift would backfire and would only end up upsetting him, but even though he cried, his tears were joyous. It was a book filled with happy memories, funny stories, and an untold amount of love. Will's first Christmas without the love of his life was never going to be an easy one, but the hope was that he knew he wasn't alone, and that he was allowed to miss Terry openly if he wanted to.

Turning to Harry, and touching the necklace he had given me and helped me put on before coming downstairs, I told him, "My gift seems so silly, now."

He pointed to the other things I'd given him. "Everything's been perfect, Lil. And like I said last night, I'm going to love anything you get me."

I'd never truly understood the meaning of the saying "what do you get the man who has everything" until I'd sat down and tried to write a list of things I wanted to get him. He'd joked about needing pants and socks, and I'd bought him a watch which I had engraved on the back with a personal message and our anniversary, but trying to think of something really special, something different, something that he truly coveted, that had proved to be difficult.

Picking up the big, rectangular box and - reluctantly - passing it to him, I watched anxiously as he opened it up.

His laugh was loud as he excitedly placed the box on the floor and pulled out the contents. A turquoise, fluffy dressing gown with yellow rubber ducks and teddy ears on the hood. I'd caught him trying to steal mine on numerous occasions, so I decided to get him his own. It had taken me an age to find, but I knew he'd be over the moon.

Standing up, Harry shrugged off the dressing gown he was already wearing and slipped on his new one before posing with a beaming grin. “Best present ever.”

"Now you have your own and you can stop trying to pilfer mine!" I said as he knelt down to hug and kiss me.

"Oh, I'm totally swapping this for yours. I want the one that smells of you," he said in my ear, mischievously. I opened my mouth to tell him that he would be doing no such thing but finally conceded. If that was what he wanted from me as a gift, then so be it!

-

Christmas dinner almost felt like a wedding rehearsal. Seventeen of us (sixteen adults and one four-month-old; who was fast asleep and completely oblivious to the commotion going on around her) crammed around the long dining table, talking loudly, passing gravy and various dishes to each other, and pouring drinks into glasses so we could toast to the happy couple. We pulled crackers and put on paper crowns, before displaying the crappy toy inside in case anybody wanted to swap, then called for silence to read the awful joke inside.

"Here, you could use those for your next tour, Harry," Dee laughed, reaching across the table to pass the one about a penguin in the Sahara desert being lost over to him.

"No way! These are all terrible!" He replied, shaking his head before pretending to slip the paper into his pocket. 

It genuinely felt like the kind of Christmas dinners I'd always dreamed of having as a kid; surrounded by love and playful bickering, and seeing people who only had a drink at Christmas get tipsy on one glass of sherry. I looked at Harry as he chatted to Dee's brother-in-law, Graham, (who, along with Dee's father, Charles, had been plying him with rum since they'd arrived) and then at my best friends, at Will; at all of my adopted family, and I once again felt so lucky. Being betrayed by someone close to me, and the awful way my visit with Bianca had ended, I knew that at one point I might have let that swallow me into a dark place, but it only highlighted the things I felt beyond grateful to have.

-

After dinner, and after Harry and I called Anne and Gemma to say Merry Christmas, we all bundled up in warm clothes and headed out for a Christmas Day walk, which was a Barry family tradition. Both Dee and Honour refuted this fact, insisting that it had only ever happened once in their memory, but we had all eaten far too much, and as it was such a nice day that we all agreed it would be good to get out for some fresh air. 

Outside, it was a cool and crisp day, and although the sun shone brightly, there was a chill that brought rosy cheeks and fogged breaths. I was glad I’d put thick socks on with the new Wellington boots Harry had given me.

As we all walked, Harry had gravitated over to Mariah and Graham, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was to fuss over baby Melody, or because Graham and Charles had brought a bottle of rum with them to "protect against the cold".

I hung back and walked with Will and Rose, the three of us walking with our arms linked, sharing sips from a flask of whisky he had brought with him for the same reason.

“We drink too much,” I croaked, wincing as the liquid burned my insides on its way to my stomach.

Will lightly shoved me as he took the flask back, “Shh! It’s Christmas!” 

“Yeah, Layla, it’s Christmas! And I’m getting married.” Rose poked her tongue out at me, so I gave her the finger. Turning to Will, she ignored me and said, “You and Harry seem to be getting on okay.”

He glanced at me, before nodding, “Yeah, I think this one probably has something to do with that, but he’s being perfectly pleasant. I’d like to talk to him properly, at some point, but I don’t think this is the time or place.”

“He’s fine with you, Will, he just...”

“... Thinks I went to the press?” Will asked, daring me to deny the fact.

I grimaced, “Yeah. Listen, like you said, now’s not the time to rock the boat. All things considered, this might be the best it’s ever going to be between the two of you. Cordial and civil is good!”

Rose nodded her head in agreement, taking a huge gulp of whisky and shuddering. We walked in silence for a short while, watching as Mariah handed Melody over to Harry, and how he looked at ease with the baby in his arms. I felt a twinge in my womb area and had a flashing thought of Harry as the father to my children, but quickly brushed it aside.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married the day after tomorrow!” I said, tearing my eyes away from Harry as he gently bounced Melody up and down and chatted away to her.

Will and Rose exchanged an amused look, before she replied with a grin, “Me either. I thought I’d feel nervous by now, but I can’t wait.”

“You’ll probably feel it when you’re about to walk down the aisle, but let’s face it, you have nothing to feel nervous about.” I huddled up tight to her side, squeezing her arm gently in reassurance. “It’s going to be wonderful, I can feel it.”

“Lil’s right, you and Dee were made for each other.” Will rested his head on her shoulder. After a few steps, he then said, “Y’know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe Layla’s going to have a baby soon.”

-

We headed back to the house when it started to get dark. Red-faced and refreshed from the cold, December air, the party kicked in as soon as we all piled through the door. Snacks and drinks were brought out, music filled the downstairs as Iris took on the role of DJ, and laughter came from every room. 

Harry had truly won everyone over; he’d spoken to Honour - who was training to be a buyer for womenswear at Harvey Nichols - about fashion and art for well over an hour, Graham had cornered me in the kitchen and enthused to me about what a great guy he was, and Carol kept making sure he was okay not being with his family. They loved him, and it made my heart happy. 

Catching him alone, I pulled him away to have a private moment where I could love him, too. We grabbed our coats, shoved our feet into our shoes, and snuck outside into the cold darkness.

He was drunk, pressing me up against the wall and dragging his lips over mine before saying, “I can’t wait for it to be our turn to get married.”

"You taste like rum and mulled wine. How much have you had?" I giggled, surprisingly unperturbed by Harry bringing up us getting married. I put it down to the peppermint schnapps. 

Ignoring my question, his cold hands moved from the wall to cup my jaw. “I know you don’t like thinking about it, but I do.”

“I never said I don’t like thinking about it. I think about it a lot.” Whispering, my hand wandered down to his behind and pulled him even tighter against me so that his hips pinned me in place. “I just don’t want to think too seriously about it yet. Let’s make it to a year first.”

“But doesn’t Layla Styles have such a nice ring to it?” His lips moved to my neck, as my tummy somersaulted at the thought of taking his name. “Mrs Layla Styles.”

“Alright,” I sighed, head falling back against the rough, white render that covered the house, and feeling the jagged edges dig into my woolly hat, “you’re making a very, very, good case.”

Harry’s kiss moved back up to meet my lips, the taste of spiced wine still on his tongue as it caressed mine. His whole body was against me, and I could feel his hardness as it rubbed against my thigh. I wondered if we’d still be sneaking off for make-out sessions when we were married. Not that we were getting married any time soon! But, would we? Would being husband and wife kill our lust, or would it only heighten it like being together openly had? Would I even take his name? Maybe I’d be Layla Styles-James? James-Styles? No, I’d take his name, maybe keep James as a middle name. Harry and Layla Styles, The Styles'. The thought made me kiss him deeper, inhaling sharply and pushing against him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Even drunk-Layla knew I wasn’t ready, but with every conversation he and I had about getting married, I felt more certain that it was going to happen. I felt more able to allow myself to picture a time when I would get married again, and I’d be happy this time, and it was going to be with Harry. 

“We better get back to the others,” Harry breathed, resting his forehead against mine. 

Groaning, an aching need throbbed between my thighs, making it hard to remember that other people in the world existed. “Do we have to?”

“Mhmm.” He pressed a needy kiss to my lips, then pulled away just enough to allow some air for our lust to cool. “We do, or I’m going to end up taking you upstairs and making an even better case for how good of a husband I’ll be.”

He moved to head back inside, but I reached out and grabbed his arm before he could open the door. The security light came on, so I could see his face clearly; lips slightly puffy from our kisses, eyes heavy and cheeks pink from drinking, and a happy smile on his face. 

“Thank you for today. These people make every Christmas so much fun for me, but you being here makes it even more special.” Glancing down at his hand in mine, I stroked my thumb over the ring finger that was always devoid of any rings. “And just so you know, I already know that you’re going to be a great husband.”


	38. Halo

It was still dark when my alarm rudely woke me up, and next to me, Harry snored away happily. With great reluctance, I left the comfort of the nice warm bed and started to get ready for the long, exciting day ahead - Rose and Dee's wedding. 

Creeping around the chilly room with only the light from the ajar bathroom door to see by, I mentally thanked past-Layla for having the foresight to lay out everything that I needed, and for not leaving it for future-Layla (me) to deal with. I tied my hair up in a messy bun, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and carried my already packed tote bag - filled with the things I wanted to take with me to the venue - over to the door.

Certain that I had everything, I returned to the bed, and to the sleeping body in it - who had quickly filled the vacant spot I'd left behind. Kneeling on the mattress, I leant over him and kissed his temple to gently stir him enough so I could say goodbye. 

"Baby," I whispered, "I'm going now."

Harry let out a confused and disgruntled groan, his head turning to look up at me with bleary eyes. "Already?"

"It's seven-thirty. You still have a while to sleep yet, though."

"Hmmm." He fell silent, and for a second I thought he'd fallen back to sleep, but then he lightly pulled my arm so he could hug it to his chest and mumbled, "Can't you come back to bed for a little longer?"

"I wish." Oh, how I wished! Dragging my splayed palm over his chest, I retrieved my arm from his grip, and hated that there was no spare time available to spend in his warmth a little longer. "I will see you later. Have fun with Carol, I will try not to get too jealous."

"I won't mind you being a little jealous," Harry chuckled lightly, rolling onto his back as I got up off the bed. He squinted slightly at the strip of light coming from the bathroom as it lay across his torso. "Carol may be my date, but I only have eyes for one woman."

Getting a flutter of butterflies in my tummy, I leant down to give him one final kiss before I truly did have to go. "That, Mr Styles, was the correct answer."

-

Rose was already awake when I knocked on her door. She had spent the night with Carol, while Dee and her mum, Blossom, were in an adjoining room. As Maid of Honour/Wedding Planner, I was going to flit between the two rooms to make sure everyone was on schedule, while Vicky was taking care of making sure everything was ready at the venue. 

Flinging the door open, with a glass of Buck's Fizz in her hand, my best friend greeted me like it was Christmas morning times ten. 

"Bird!" she grinned.

"Oh, you are far too chipper for this early in the morning," I groaned, suppressing a yawn as I stepped into the room.

Mirroring my yawn, but making no attempt to hide it, Carol told me, "She's been like this from the moment her eyes open. I had to stop her from putting on Elton."

"Hey! I'm allowed to be excited today!" Rose protested, but for the first time ever, she failed to look stern because she couldn't stop smiling. "I am marrying the love of my life today! By the end of the day, I will have a wife!"

The words said out loud seemed to hit her, and she suddenly looked a little wan. Carol and I glanced at each other, and without needing to say a thing, I grabbed my phone to put on 'Step Into Christmas' while she rushed to top up the bride-to-be's glass. 

"Yeah, you will!" I cheered, discarding my belongings and taking hold of Rose's hand to raise it up in celebration. 

To my relief, the opening bars of the song that already felt like it was too far on the wrong side of Christmas, snapped her out of her nervousness, and she started to dance around with renewed excitement, singing "I'm getting married, I'm getting married, I'm getting married to the love of my li-i-fe!" in time with the chorus. 

As Carol and I joined in with her excitement, we shared a look of relief. Crisis number one averted! Nice one, James!

-

Iris and Violet arrived shortly after me, and not too long after came the two girls who were going to be doing our hair and make-up. Rose and I went first, meaning that once I was done, and everyone was in the process of getting theirs done, I could quickly pop next door to make sure that Dee and her bridal party were all okay. 

Like Rose's room, spirits were definitely high. There was a lot of laughter and chatter, and music played loudly while Honour, and Dee's friend from college, Laura, danced around the room. In the centre of it all, Dee was sitting in a chair getting her hair styled into perfect corkscrew curls, laughing with as much excitement as Rose had greeted me with.

"How's Rose doing?" Mariah asked as we hugged hello.

"Climbing the walls," I laughed. "I think she'd get married in her pyjamas if it meant she got there sooner. We nearly had a wobble of nerves, but she's back to full excitement, now. How's things in here?"

My fellow maid of honour (we'd both refused to be addressed as Matron-of-Honour) grimaced, nodding her head in understanding, "Mum said there were some tears this morning, but she was fine when I turned up. I don't think she liked them not sleeping in the same bed."

"Of course! I hadn't thought of that. Well, it won't be long and then they can see each other again."

"Layla!" Dee's voice carried over the music, her arm up high to wave me over. As we kissed each other on the cheek, she asked, "How's Rose?"

"She's fine - missing you and very excited. I'm surprised you couldn't hear Elton from next door."

Her already wide smile grew brighter, and her eyes brimmed with adoration and love to know that her future wife was excited enough to bust out her favourite Christmas song. "Tell her I love her, yeah? Tell her I can't wait to be her wife."

Feeling suddenly choked up, I cleared my throat and nodded. I reached out, and we held hands as I told her, "Of course. And you know that she feels exactly the same. She's counting down the minutes."

Dee took a deep, steadying breath, before shakily exhaling as she strove not to cry. "I know. Only two hours, forty-one minutes, and ten seconds to go."

-

The ceremony was beautiful. I watched my two best friends in the whole world exchange their vows, and wept with pure, unadulterated joy. The love in their eyes, the way they kept reaching out to hold hands or touch each other in some way, and the way the registrar had to playfully scold them because they both kept leaning over in eagerness to kiss. It was perfect, and my heart felt fit to burst with love and happiness for them.

Every so often, I'd glance over my shoulder to sneak a glimpse at Harry. He was sitting with Vicky, and a few of the other girls from our office, because I'd asked her to make sure he was okay during the ceremony. Perhaps it was the romance of seeing my friends getting married, or it was simply the immense amount of love I had for him, but looking at him made me cry. I listened to the words spoken about love, about coming together to share a life, and about finding the person who's by your side to weather any storm, and I realised I felt all of that about him. 

Emotion overwhelmed me, and a rush of love, unlike anything I'd ever felt before washed over me. I cried and cheered with everyone else as Rose and Dee were pronounced wife and wife, and were told they could finally kiss.

After the bridal party posed for photographs, Mrs and Mrs Fullerton-Barry walked back up the aisle together to applause, grinning from ear to ear. As me and the other bridesmaids followed, I caught Harry's eye, and my heart skipped a beat when he mouthed the words 'I love you' as I passed.

-

There was a lot of milling around while the photographs were being taken, and while Vicky and I sorted everyone into groups so that everyone got their picture and nobody was missed, Harry was being dragged around the bar as Carol's date. She introduced him to everyone as my boyfriend, and he politely shook their hand and introduced himself. Not even Dee had gone through the two tiers of The Fullerton Family Welcome so close together, but Harry seemed unbothered by the second round. 

I practically skipped over to him when it was his turn to have a photo with me as my plus one, glad to finally get to properly speak to him and say hello. He was listening intently as Aunt Milly told him about her great dislike of Southerners, especially Scousers, but that I was the exception to the rule. (It always amused me how any expression of love from her never failed to include the caveat; 'you know me, Layla, I don't like Scousers, thieving beggars the lot of 'em, but you're part of the family!')

"Hello," I smiled, gently placing a hand on his back as I joined the conversation. Kissing Rose's elderly great-aunt on the cheek, I joked, "I hope you're telling him how wonderful I am, Aunt Milly."

"I've heard nothing but how wonderful you are," Harry said as I returned to his side. Slipping his arm around my lower back, he proved just how charming he was. "I told them all that I already know you're wonderful, and that you look absolutely beautiful today."

I fell for his charm, hook line and sinker, flashing him a bashful smile as my cheeks reddened a little. He certainly knew how to make it hard not to love him.

"See," I heard Carol say to Milly as Harry and I momentarily lost ourselves in each other's gaze, "they've been like this all Christmas. Smitten."

Milly chuckled in response, "Cor! It's been a long time since anyone looked at me like that. I see wedding bells."

While the two women laughed and agreed with each other, Harry was highly amused when I groaned and dropped my forehead onto his shoulder to hide my embarrassment. He kissed the top of my head, careful not to mess up my hair, and quietly told me he loved seeing me blush.

Standing up straight, I shook my head, "Okay, that's enough! Thank you, ladies, but I did actually come over for a reason. H, I need you for photographs."

-

Photographs all done, I found Will, alone, a drink in hand, and staring out of one of the ornately shaped windows. He seemed to be lost in thought, his expression melancholy, as he stood completely unmoving except for occasionally bringing up his glass to his lips.

"Hey, you."

Returning from wherever his brain had wandered off to, and giving me a warm smile, he replied, "Hello, darling. Are you okay?" 

"I'm good. Are you? You were miles away then." I moved to stand opposite him, leaning against the brightly coloured walls like he was. "Terry?"

Will bit his lip and nodded. "Of course. Just thinking about how much he'd have loved today. He loved Brighton, and he loved Dee and Rose immensely."

"I know. But, I think it says a lot about him that even on hectic days like this, his presence is still missed." Shrugging my shoulders, I added, "I know you don't believe in all that, but I'm sure he's here with us."

He hummed sceptically, before he seemed to shake off his sadness, and put the mask which he hid his constant pain back on. "You look beautiful, by the way, you always look good in red. I didn't get the chance to say it earlier, I thought it might make Harry uncomfortable."

"Thank you! You look pretty handsome yourself." I adjusted his deep-red silk pocket square where it had sunk slightly. "You're probably right about that. But he's doing his best."

"I've noticed. Maybe by next Christmas, he'll be able to look me in the eye."

I chuckled but didn't feel hopeful. "Dream big, William, you never know what Father Christmas might bring us."

He gave a small, wry laugh, then changed the subject. "So, is this getting you any closer to wanting to say 'I do' again?"

"Not you as well! We haven't even eaten yet and I've already had three people asking if I 'plan on marrying that nice young man I brought before it's too late'!"

"Yikes!"

"Yeah." Glancing around the room, to make sure nobody was close enough to hear. "But, I am liking the idea more and more-"

"Oh my! Lay-"

"Stop!" I reached out to shush him, clamping a hand over his mouth as he started to hum the wedding march. "I wish I hadn't bloody said anything to you!"

Will giggled; pulling away from my hand, but grabbing hold of it so he could press a kiss to the knuckles. "I'm sorry, I'm just excited for you. I'm well aware of how long it's taken for you to feel like that." I opened my mouth, but he spoke for me, "And yes, I also know it's all my fault."

"I actually wasn't going to say that," I told him, pulling a face. "I was going to say; it's not that I'm quite ready to race up the aisle yet, but the more we do things like this together, and I watch him making such an effort with the people I love, the more I can picture him being my husband. I really, really love him."

"That's wonderful, Lil."

He came to my side and hugged me, placing a kiss at the top of my head. I could only imagine what Harry would think if he saw us, and maybe I'd regret telling Will about my growing desire to get married, but I was losing all interest in trying to justify my relationship with my ex-husband. I knew that he was genuine when he told me he was happy for Harry and me, I knew his affection was purely Platonic, and I had to hope that it wasn't him who had betrayed me.

-

Rather than having a top table for the reception, Rose and Dee had decided to sit people together in groups where people would know each other and feel more comfortable. The tables were named after bands they loved, and Harry and I were sitting with them on the 'Muse' table, along with Will, Tommy, Laura, and Carol. Harry sat proudly between Carol and me, making sure to let her know that even though I was there, he was still her date. It was little things like that which made me adore him - even if he was visibly unhappy when he noticed on the seating list that Will was going to be at our table. 

"Ready for your speeches, ladies?" Harry asked, glancing around the table, before giving me a little nudge when he saw me go green at the gills.

Remembering that I was indeed going to have to stand up and talk to the room, I reached for the table wine and poured myself some Dutch courage.

"I'm going to keep mine short and sweet," said Carol, before adding with a chuckle, "like me!"

Leaning over to me, Rose whispered, "I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm about to puke."

"Same. Thanks for asking me to do this, by the way, mate." Pausing when I felt Harry's hand on mine, I turned to see what he wanted, but when I realised he'd done it idly whilst chatting with Carol and Laura, I returned my focus to my friend. "Are you ready for the big announcement? That's got to be exciting, right?"

Rose's face split into the happiest of grins, her gaze turning to her new wife and filling with an untold amount of adoration. "I can't wait."

Speeches came after the second course. Carol went first, and there were tears within moments as she spoke about Rose's father and how proud he would be of her, and how much he would have loved Dee. She then raised the first toast to the happy couple, and then one to absent friends, to all of those who we all wished were still around to be a part of the day in person. 

After Carol came Dee's father, Charles, who spoke of the night Dee came home from university, terrified to tell them that she was gay. She'd burst into tears as soon as she walked in, and he'd thought something terrible had happened, but when she'd told him and Blossom the reason for her upset, he couldn't understand how she ever thought they would be nothing but supportive. He spoke of his love for her, and how she'd spoken about the girl she worked with every now and then - called Rose - for years before, finally, they got to meet her. To him, he didn't care who his daughters were with, as long as they were loved and cared for, and he'd seen that in Rose for Dee instantly. 

And then it was my turn. (Honour had managed to wangle her way out of doing a speech, which, in the few minutes leading up to the moment I had to stand up, I thought was massively unfair!) Legs shaking, I stood up, and did the usual thanks that normally the best man would do, and put heavy emphasis on how beautiful we bridesmaids looked. I then described the first time I met The Fullertons: walking into their house a few days before Christmas, terrified about what this family would think of me, to see Iris dressed as an angel - but with a cowboy hat instead of a halo - circling Violet like a Maypole, wrapping her in tinsel and ribbon meant for the presents, while both of them sang 'One Love' by Blue in the style of a Gregorian chant.

"It was 'All Rise', actually!" Iris heckled over the laughter from the next table.

"Well, there you go, I rest my case."

Waving my hands in dismissal at the groans from my audience, I continued on about Carol taking me in as part of the family, and how after that Rose and I were attached at the hip. I then moved on to the first time Rose spoke about Dee, and how she'd spent the whole evening bringing her up and remembering funny or interesting things this girl, Dionne, had talked about. But Dee had a girlfriend, so after a few days, her name stopped being mentioned. Until the next time they saw each other, and every time after that they ran into one another at various events, neither one of them being single at the same time. Then! A miracle! Rose was single, and so was Dee, and the rest, as they say, was history! One date and it was all they needed to know that they'd kept meeting because they were meant to be. 

As I neared the end of my speech, I felt a wave of emotion swell in my chest, and I took a deep breath before looking at the happy couple. "I was so excited when you asked me to do this, Rose, but when I sat down to write this speech, I realised there weren't many tips for a best woman's speech. And, the truth is, I love you both so much that there isn't an adequate way to describe how much you both mean to me, how thankful I am to have you in my life, or how perfect the love you share is. You balance each other perfectly and make the most wonderful team. I am so grateful to know you and be a part of your day."

"Fucking hell, bird," Rose whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks as Dee did the same.

"So, if you'd all stand and raise a glass with me, I'd like to toast to the happy couple." Sniffing back my own tears, I reached for my glass of champagne with a shaky hand and held it aloft in their direction. "To Rose and Dee!"

The two of them stood while we all toasted to them, and the three of us hugged each other tightly. Rose was the first to pull away, muttering about not wanting to ruin her make-up.

As everyone sat back down, the newlyweds remained on their feet, so they could say their own few words.

"My wife and I," Dee started, before giggling and leaning against Rose. "My wife! My wife and I would just like to say a huge thank you to everyone for coming down to share the day with us, and for making the journey so close after Christmas. We love you all, and it's already been the most perfect day."

Pausing while everyone clapped and cheered and whistled, Rose took over, "I second what my beautiful wife said, and on top of that, there's something else we'd like to share. For the past year we've been going through the process of having IVF, and, we're excited to announce that... WE'RE HAVING A BABY!"

There was an audible gasp from almost everyone in the room as both brides pointed to Dee's barely noticeable bump, and then there was an eruption of celebration. The room vibrated with applause and cheers, and every, single person in the room was over the moon and renewed in their energy to celebrate. It had been a long journey for both of them, one that had its ups and downs, and huge disappointments, but Dee was past the three-month mark of her pregnancy, and all the stress and worry, and money, had been worth it from the moment they'd been told her second round had been successful. 

Before sitting back down, Rose and Dee circled the table to go and envelop Will in a tight hug, thanking him for the millionth time for his 'contribution'. I'd been teasing him about it, but watching the three of them I thought how beautiful it was that he had helped them, especially after losing Terry (who had been involved with the decision). Rose and Dee were having a baby, and Will was the donor/father - you couldn't make this up!


	39. So Good

My final, main Maid of Honour duty for the evening was to gather everyone to watch as the new Mrs and Mrs Fullerton-Barry had their first dance. They'd spent hours trying to come up with the perfect song that they would forever think of as their song, but nothing had felt quite right, or one would like a song and the other wouldn't. Then, in Ibiza, we'd all been discussing all of our favourite songs growing up, and blasting our musical journey down memory lane over the villa's speakers, when Mariah had played 'So Good' by Eternal. The two hens had both placed a hand on their hearts, as they both loudly declared - practically in unison - that they'd loved that band and that song as a kid. So, while it wasn't a typical song for a first dance, it was the one they deemed as meant to be.

I stood with Harry as I watched my two best friends twirl each other around and sing along with the upbeat R'n'B pop song. My heart was so full of love for them, seeing them smile from ear to ear; glad to be over the stressful, nerve-wracking parts of the day and feeling completely free to bask in their happiness. 

"Do you know what you'd want as your first dance?" Harry muttered, his hand sliding up to the open part at the back of my dress and tracing a heart over the small patch of skin between my shoulder blades. 

I shivered as his words blew strands of my hair and tickled my ear, and bit back a smile when I pictured us having our own first dance. 

"No," I replied. "Do you?"

He shook his head with a subtle smirk, taking a sip of his drink. "No, but I'm sure we'll think of one closer to the time." 

-

Standing at the bar, waiting to be served; the champagne was very much doing its thing, and I was feeling particularly affectionate. Finally, I could shower Harry with all the love and adoration I'd wanted to give him all day. Sorry, Carol! I love you, but I had come to steal your date.

"I love you," I told him, quietly, placing a hand on his warm chest and leaning in close, so our lips were almost touching, "and I love that my family loves you, too."

Amused by my unrestrained - and uncharacteristic - outpouring of love, Harry looked almost smug as he replied, "I love you, too. And I love your family as well."

"I heard you made quite the impression with Rose's aunts and uncles. Carol told me that after we had walked away, Aunt Milly already gave you her seal of approval, and wants to know when you plan on making an honest woman of me."

"Oh, really? Is that a hint?" he chuckled, pressing a featherlight kiss on my lips. 

I was just loved-up and tipsy enough that had he proposed, I'd have said yes.

Not trusting myself to not vocalise that thought, I went to pull him back for a deep kiss when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Joel had also joined the wait for the bar. Harry and I could have been served twice over, but we'd been far too busy in our own world to truly care about our place in the disorganised queue. Joel's presence brought me back to earth, and as our eyes met, I felt dreadful.

What made it worse was because his eyes had met mine, we both felt obliged to interact with each other. Taking an almost visible deep breath to prepare himself, Joel moved closer as I reluctantly slipped away from Harry.

"Hi," Joel said, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Hey. I'm good, thanks." I had felt wonderful, but suddenly I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "How are you? Having fun?"

He nodded his head, eyes flitting in Harry's direction, unsure if he even wanted to acknowledge the other man present. "I am, it's been a great day."

I, however, needed to address the elephant in the room. "Uh... Joel, this is Harry. Harry, Joel."

There was some reluctance from both of them as they shook hands; forcing smiles and pleasantries about it being nice to meet at last. 

As was the case with Will, Joel was not only my ex - and a recent one at that - but also possibly responsible for Harry and I's relationship going public. So, it didn't surprise me when Harry touched the small of my back and quietly said, "Baby, I'm going to try the other end of the bar."

"Oh... okay. Do you want me to come?"

He shook his head. "No, you stay here. I'll be back." 

"So," Joel said, once Harry had left us, "how awesome is it about Dee being pregnant?"

Every time I thought about it, I couldn't help but grin. Even as I stood awkwardly with someone I'd once been in a relationship with, I beamed as I thought about Rose and Dee becoming parents. "It's incredible. I'm over the moon for them, it's something they've wanted for a long time."

"I know." There was a lull in the conversation, but just as I was about to make my excuses and leave to see where Harry had scuttled off to, he asked, "And everything with you and Harry's good? I take it he passed the Fullerton Inquisition?"

I laughed and nodded my head, saying, "He did, yeah. We're fine, I'm really..." I hesitated, unsure what to say so it didn't sound like I was rubbing salt in the wound after he'd just witnessed our love-fest. 

"... Happy?" I nodded that he was correct, and he took me by surprise by gently touching my arm; his palm warm and soft and familiar against my skin. "Lilly, I know we haven't exactly been on the best terms lately, but I want you to be happy."

Joel was honestly too good and, perhaps it was the champagne, but out of everyone, I had the hardest time believing he went to the press. Sure, he had the motive, the connections, and the opportunity, but... could he do that? It broke my heart to think he could hate me that much.

"Thank you. And what about you? Are you seeing anyone? You and Vicky are getting on rather well."

"Nothing's going on, but she's fun, we're having a good time. Do you mind?"

"I would be lying if I said it isn't weird, but, I'm not going to kick up a fuss. You're both adults, after all, and you and I aren't together anymore."

Joel nodded his head thoughtfully, glancing around the bar. Harry was at the other end, leaning against it and doing what looked like a birthday shot of rum with Dee's father, Charles. "I thought you and her were close? Isn't hooking up with your friend-slash-boss's ex count as breaking girl code?"

"We are close! I love her a lot." Laughing, I told him, "I forgave my ex-husband for sleeping with my only real father-figure - my girl and guy code when it comes to sleeping with people is already completely out of whack."

He grimaced slightly. "Fair point."

"I won't be asking her for a detailed run-down tomorrow, but I have no right to say what either of you can do." 

"Have you heard anything else about who went to the press?"

"No, why?"

"Just curious," he said with a shrug.

I giggled, nervously, "For a minute there I thought you were about to confess,"

"I can't tell you how much it hurts that you think I'm remotely capable of doing that to you."

"That's the thing, Joel, I didn't think anyone was capable of doing it until it happened. But, with the exception of you and Bianca, everyone else knew for a long time before - if they had wanted to do it, they could have already." I hastened to add, "And that's not to say it was you or her, it's just that if it wasn't, then I don't know the people around me like I thought I did. That's something I've been struggling with this whole time."

Joel opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Harry reappeared. I saw him distance himself, as though he remembered I wasn't his Layla anymore, and there wasn't much point in trying to convince me he was innocent. 

The harsh reality, and something I had maintained as I strove to continue on as normal with the knowledge I'd been betrayed so publicly, was that it could have been any one of the people at the funeral. I wasn't going to apologise for being suspicious, and certainly not while I still had no idea who it had been. I knew it hurt Joel, I knew it hurt Will, Bianca, Rose, Dee, and even Harry and Jeff, but I could only hope they would get over it once I knew who was responsible.

"Hey," I greeted Harry, touching his back and noticing he appeared a little mellower than he had when he'd left. "Did Charles rope you into shots?"

"Yeah. How can I turn him down on his birthday?" he chuckled with a tipsy grin.

"Well," Joel cleared his throat, "I'll leave you both to it. Vicky's probably wondering where I am with our drinks."

He was gone before I even had the chance to say goodbye, moving through the crowd to the other end of the bar, just as Harry had done. 

"Shall we go dance?" I asked Harry, suddenly feeling awkward seeing him staring down into his glass, face serious. 

To my relief, he smiled when he raised his gaze back up. The awkwardness dissipated as I moved closer to him, leaning up to softly kiss his lips. Humming softly and placing a hand just above my behind, he grinned, "Come on then, James, let's go see these moves you claim to have."

-

Catching hold of my waist as we danced together, Harry pulled me back against his chest, and whispered in my ear, "Shall we go back to the hotel?"

"Aren't you having fun?" I asked, leaning back into him and putting a hand to his cheek. 

"Not at all, I'm having a great time. I just..." He paused as I turned around and draped my arms around his neck. Face to face, he kissed me deeply, then muttered, "I think we should go and make a start on having a baby."

It took a second for my drunken brain to register what he'd suggested, so I was slow to react. As the words finally sank in, my eyes widened and I looked at him agog; like he'd just suggested we... well, like he'd just said we should start trying for a baby!

"What did you say?" I asked, unsure if he'd had too much to drink and had totally misjudged his sexy talk.

Smirking, he seemed pleased to have thrown me. "I said: we should go back to the room, so we can start trying for a baby."

"Harry... are you serious? Or are you drunk?" 

"I'm both," he chuckled, leaning in to place a kiss just under my earlobe. "Let me put a baby in you, Lil."

Despite the loud, thumping music, I put a hand to my mouth to muffle the shocked half-moan, half-giggle that escaped. Even if it was just some dirty talk inspired by the romance of the day and Dee being pregnant, I couldn't deny it was working. I very much liked the idea of Harry getting me pregnant, I just didn't want to get my hopes up that he meant it.

"Oh, yep, you're drunk," I laughed, pulling away just a little so I didn't make a fool of myself being too eager to then find out he was joking. 

But he kept me close, and we weren't really dancing anymore - certainly not to whatever song was playing. Harry was smiling, but he was also serious, looking at me in earnest as though he'd had some sort of epiphany. I wondered if maybe he'd started off joking, but was being struck by how much he genuinely liked the thought of us taking that step.

"Lil, I'm being serious." He leant in close, speaking just loud enough for me to hear him over the music. "I think... I think I want us to start trying for a baby."

The room suddenly grew exceptionally warm and excitement started to fizz in my tummy. There'd been no humour behind his words, and my racing heart was beginning to believe he wasn't messing around. 

I glanced around the room to gauge if it was too early for us to leave the party. Usually, I was the last to leave the dance floor, but I doubted that even Whigfield's 'Saturday Night' could distract me from what Harry was proposing. There were still a lot of guests around, as a majority of people were staying overnight in Brighton rather than driving back to London, or wherever they'd travelled from. 

"Lil?" Harry prompted.

"Let's go get some air," I told him, before taking his hand and leading us off the dance floor in the direction of Rose.

She was standing by our table, with Violet and Carol, and the three of them seemed to be enthralled by Iris, who was being chatted up by one of the guys from our office. What was so fascinating was that Iris appeared to be uncharacteristically receptive to his advances. In fact, she was positively encouraging him by flipping her long red hair and giggling coyly.

As Harry and I approached, I heard Violet say, "This is like one of them nature documentaries where the praying mantis lures in her mate before she rips his head off."

Rose spotted us and spread out her arms wide in drunken joy. "Here they are! I take back what I said about you, Harry, you actually can dance."

Harry frowned, laughing whilst trying at the same time to work out if what she'd said was a compliment and when exactly she'd said he couldn't dance. I, on the other hand, saw the comment for what it was: Harry was closer to fully being accepted into Rose's heart. 

"We're going to get some air," I told her as she pulled me into a tight, loving hug while Harry's attention was grabbed by Carol and Violet.

"Oh?" Letting go of me, her squiffy gaze went from me to Harry, then back to me. "Are you coming back?"

"I- I don't know." I leant in to whisper to her, "We need to talk about something. Would you be angry if I didn't come back?"

"Oh god! Not at all! I have a pregnant wife I need to go love on, we won't be here much longer, ourselves." Face splitting into a huge, blissful grin at getting to say she had a pregnant wife, she then asked me, "Is everything okay?"

I wanted to tell her, but saying anything before Harry and I had actually talked seemed like a stupid idea. And, although I knew she would never see it like that, I didn't want to steal even the smallest amount of thunder from her and Dee's day. However, I knew that if trying for a baby was seriously on the cards, Rose was going to be the first person I told about it - like I was when she and Dee had started IVF.

Glancing at Harry, who had been pulled onto the edge of the dancefloor to dance with Carol to The Beatles' 'Twist & Shout', and watching her holding his face as she spoke to him with a huge smile, I couldn't suppress the excitement when I turned back to Rose. "Everything's wonderful, and I think it's about to get even better."

-

Walking the short distance from the Brighton Pavilion down to the seafront, Harry and I stayed mostly silent. The night was bitterly cold, but even down on the promenade, the usual solid wall of freezing wind had eased, making the cold more bearable. As we reached the turquoise railings and looked down onto the pebble beach to watch as the waves rolled in, I took a deep lungful of sea air and breathed out for what seemed like the first time since Harry had suggested we try for a baby.

"Do you want to go down on the beach?" he asked, huddling closer to my side and circling his arms around my waist. "Or shall we go back to the room and warm each other up?"

"You seem like you're too cold to go down to the beach," I replied, kissing the apple of his cold cheek, and feeling as he shuddered beneath his thick, black coat. "You've been in the South too long, H."

He scowled at my comment, turning his face so the tip of his nose buried itself in the crook of my neck. "It's bloody December in Brighton, Lil." 

Leaning my head on his, warmed by his breaths, I tilted it up to gaze up at the stars. Even with the streetlights, the pier, and all of the lights coming from the hotels and bars which lined the front, the black expanse over the sea dazzled. Or maybe that was all the champagne and the peppermint vodka shots.

Still, every part of me buzzed with life as I took another deep breath and sighed, "I love it." After a few moments, I asked, "Did you mean what you said? About a..."

Head popping up, Harry said, "Of course I meant it. I wouldn't joke about that with you."

I kept giving him an out, but his certainty was so... certain, that hearing him say he was serious now we were outside, away from our friends, and with sea air diluting the alcohol, made me feel giddy. Other than the odd occasion where he'd said we would have cute kids or mentioned names we liked, we hadn't really discussed having a baby anytime soon. We talked about getting married more than babies, so even if he meant it, we couldn't rush into it - especially when he was drunk and amorous.

"Why now?"

"Don't you want to?" His eyes searched my face; seemingly confused why I hadn't leapt on his suggestion with eager enthusiasm immediately. Before I could answer, he answered my question, "Because I love you, because watching Rose and Dee the past few days has made me realise I can't wait until you're pregnant with my baby, because-"

"But is it what you want? You're not even twenty-six, Harry!"

"Layla, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want it," he said with a trace of annoyance.

I looked away from him, exhaling and watching the air around my mouth fog. "Okay, okay, I think we're getting a little heated. I just... I don't want you to do this and regret it later. I don't want us to act impulsively because Dee has the cutest baby bump already and Rose looks at her like she's the centre of the universe."

A lopsided smile spread across Harry's lips, and he pulled me closer so his lips brushed my cheek. As he slid his gloved hand under my coat and onto my tummy, he muttered, "I want it, I want you to have our babies. All eight of them."

Laughter broke the tension. "Oh, absolutely not. Let's just have the one first, yeah?"

"So," he said, turning my head towards him so our lips were mere inches apart, "does that mean we can go back to the hotel, James?"

"Yes, Harry, let's go back to the hotel."


	40. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Harry and I rushed back to the hotel - both out of a need to get out of the cold, and so we could be alone. Walking through the empty hotel lobby, we smiled at the night staff behind the desk and headed straight to the lift.

Standing side by side as the doors closed, I wanted to pounce on him. I wanted to sink my fingers into his hair and feel him pulling me tight against his hard body while our tongues danced and mingled together. But, as I glanced up at the bug-eye shaped camera above us, all I could do was reach for his hand, and link our cold fingers together as we both tried to keep the desire to rip each other's clothes off at bay with steady breaths.

"This might be the slowest lift known to man," I grumbled, watching the numbers up to our floor crawl past at a snail's pace. There were only seven levels, but it seemed like we were being winched up to the top of The Shard by hand in a wicker basket.

Harry did not help matters by leaning over to press a single kiss to my jaw, and muttered in a voice that promised the wait would be worth it, "Patience, James, patience."

I was seriously considering throwing caution to the wind and pushing him up against the wall and kissing him properly, when finally the elevator came to a stop at our floor, made a little ding, and the doors opened. Hand in hand, we all but raced along the corridor to our door, giggling with excitement.

My patience seemed to wear thin as I leant against the wall next to our door, watching Harry as he dug the key-card out of his wallet. Pulling him against me whilst he blindly tried to get the card in the lock, I tried to contain that I was grinning from ear to ear, and whispered, "I love you so much, Styles."

He left the lock for a second, putting his whole focus on me. Cradling my face in his hands, his rings were cold against my cheek as he kissed me deeply - warm tongue slipping lazily with mine. I breathed him in, holding on to the lapels of his black wool coat, allowing the love I felt for him to wash over me. If this was what it meant to be with him, if we continued to have nights such as these, then I wanted to be with him forever.

As a hand left my cheek, our mouths hung close, and I heard the beeping of the lock on the door before he pushed it open. Making no attempt to move, he said, "I love you, too, Lil."

I moved first; heading inside and making sure he followed quickly. Alone in the dark, safe in our room, there was a flurry of movement as I pressed him up against the nearest wall, and kissed him like I'd wanted to in the lift.

Other than a quiet, sleepy quickie on Christmas Day night (okay, and also when we got to the hotel, before joining everyone in the bar), we'd been too busy or too tired to be intimate with each other. The fresh air had blown away the worst of the inebriation from the champagne, leaving us more love-drunk than regular drunk, and with the right amount of tipsiness to feel comfortable losing our inhibitions. I didn't second guess myself when I spilt out just how much I loved him, and felt no need to tease him as a way to diffuse my bashfulness when he did the same.

We started to undress each other with a growing urgency; removing all the unnecessary boundaries between us, tossing coats and suit jackets to the floor, kicking off shoes and throwing my bag onto the nearby chair.

"I want you so much," I mumbled against his skin as I kissed his neck and collarbone, my hands wandering down from unbuttoning his shirt to undo his trousers.

Harry let out a throaty chuckle, "Is this what getting her own way does to Layla?"

"Maybe." Giggling, I returned my lips to him. "No, it's... I really loved watching you with everyone today, especially with Carol. It was very sweet to see you letting her drag you around the room."

"She really loves you. They all do. I was told many, _many_ times today that I had to look after you."

Blushing, I grinned, "I know. And I love them."

"You know who else loves you?" He asked - his top lip protruding when he pronounced the word 'you'.

Feigning innocence, I stroked the side of my index fingers down over his cheek. "No. I have no idea. Who?"

Harry moved his hands from where they rested on my ass and cradled my face. He then kissed me - a long, lingering kiss that made me feel giddy and breathless.

"Me," he whispered, "I love you."

On any other night, in any other circumstances, I'd have dramatically pretended to be shocked. I would have made a big deal out of him loving me; acting like it was the first time he'd said it, and enjoying as he giggled and maybe even blushed a little. But the way he'd kissed me, and the tone of his whisper, had sent ripples of arousal through me, stirring up my need for him even further.

Grabbing at the front of his half unbuttoned shirt, I pulled him through to the bedroom, and over to the bed. I made him sit on the bed, then climbed on to straddle his lap, pressing against him and resuming our kiss as he leant back on his hands.

"Say it again," I whispered, reaching to pull up the hem of my dress so that it almost sat up around my waist.

"Say what again?"

"About having a baby."

Harry's lips spread into a smirk, and I felt his right hand slide up my thigh until it reached my underwear. As he stroked the bent knuckle of his index finger over my soaked panties, pressing it against my clit so I moaned, he repeated the words I hadn't been able to stop thinking about since he'd uttered them on the dancefloor; "Let me put a baby in you, Lil."

With a sharp intake of breath, I sank my fingers into his hair and pressed my lips against his. Expletives ran through my mind as I searched for something to say or do which felt like an appropriate response, but as our tongues met once again, all I could do was gasp between kisses, "Do it."

Suddenly, Harry grabbed my behind with a tight grip, and moved us so I was lying across the bed with my feet just barely on the edge, and he was kneeling between my parted legs. Eyes locked, he undid the last remaining buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off, before letting it fall to the floor. He then placed his hands on my knees, spreading them wider as he slid his fingers up towards my centre. Hooking a digit under the fabric of my panties, he pulled them to one side; exposing how wet I was for him, and making me blush under his gaze.

As he pulled his cock free from his briefs, he leant over me and put his face inches from mine. "Do you honestly want me to?"

Nodding my head, I reached up to place my hand on his cheek. "Yes. Do you want to?"

I'd be lying if there wasn't some apprehension in Harry's face - swallowing hard before replying, but then when he spoke, he broke into the most loving and genuine smile that put at least some of my concerns to rest. "Yes, I really do."

I pulled him into my kiss and wrapped my legs around his waist to bring him closer. Putting his weight on me, his lips left mine so he could bury his face in the crook of my neck, and I felt him pushing into me. There was a moment of stillness as we soaked up the feeling of being connected; of having had our attention on other people for days - with little time for just him and I - but finally getting to focus on each other. Returning to kiss me quickly, his closeness then disappeared as he sat up. His arms circled my thighs and as he pulled my underwear further aside, he bit his bottom lip and watched his cock sinking into me.

Everything felt wonderful, and when his thumb swept over my clit, back and forth, covering in my wetness, I closed my eyes to bask in how incredible he made me feel.

"Y'okay?" Harry asked, his thrusts picking up pace.

He then chuckled when I replied in a whispered, broken moan, "Feels... So... Good."

Encouraged by my words, he adjusted so that his hands moved to the backs of my knees, pushing them forward and apart until they almost touched the bed. Harry hit as deep as he could, and I cried out in bittersweet pleasure and pain, encouraging him to keep going. I gripped onto his tattooed forearm with one hand - feeling his muscles tense beneath my fingertips - while the other grasped at my own breast.

I heard him whisper, "Fuck, you feel incredible."

When I opened my eyes, he leant forward so he was over me, his forehead pressing against mine as his lips parted and the most delicious sounding moan fell from his mouth. His right hand moved up to tangle his fingers in my hair, pulling it enough to elicit a whimper and to send a jolt of pleasure down to where we were connected. He smiled at my reaction - a lazy lop-sided smirk, which sent a second jolt of arousal.

"Faster!" I gasped; locking my eyes with his to fully lose myself in him.

Harry did as I asked, his grunts and groans getting louder as he picked up his pace and fucked me like I needed him to. I whispered his name and told him I was about to come, my fingers gripping onto him as I got closer, encouraged by his words and the steady, pounding thrusts which seemed to almost keep me hanging on the precipice of release. Suddenly, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and grazed his teeth over my skin, sending me over to an orgasm which made me tingle from head to pointed toe.

Slowing for a moment, so I could get my breath, Harry kissed me deeply, mumbling, "You're so beautiful, Lil."

Cheeks warm, my breath shook as I told him, "Are you going to come for me, baby?"

He groaned and whimpered at my words; the slow and long rolling movements of our bodies making his own cheeks flush red in the low light around us. Brow furrowed, he nodded, "Yeah - all for you."

Planting both hands on the bed, he started to pick up speed again - swearing under his breath whilst returning to lean his forehead against mine. I whispered words of praise and encouragement, telling him how I needed to feel him come inside me, and how much I loved him.

As I watched him come undone and felt the final few pushes of his hard cock within me, I - not for the first time, or for the last time - marvelled at just how much I was in love with him. Had he not been able to be at the wedding with me, I was absolutely certain I still would have had the most amazing day. But from his sleepy goodbye that morning, to watching him with Carol, and then the suggestion of us trying for a baby before coming back to the hotel and, pause for retching noises, ' _making love'_ \- him being there had made the day infinitely more perfect and special. He made everything in my life better.

Harry slowed to a stop, and moved to lay his head on my chest. Breathing heavily, he was silent as I lightly stroked my fingertips up and down his spine and watched as goosebumps rippled over his skin. I wasn't going to get pregnant yet, - I still had my implant so there wasn't any chance - but if he woke up in the morning feeling the same way, then he and I were probably going to be in each other's lives forever. Forever with Harry? Yeah, I liked how that sounded.

-

We had every intention of sleeping as dawn approached; showering and getting ourselves ready for sleep, turning off the lights, and settling into bed. But wandering hands during our usual pre-sleep cuddles grew into a need that neither one of us could ignore.

"We can sleep when we get home," Harry muttered in my ear, moving his body with mine as I rolled onto my stomach so that he was over me.

He lifted his lower body just a few inches; giving me enough room to push my ass up against his hardening cock. I was rewarded with a breathy groan, and as one hand tightly gripped my lower back, he guided himself into my entrance with the other. Sinking to the hilt, his weight returned so that I was fully blanketed in him.

"Fuck!" Thoughts hazy as my pussy was stretched and filled once again, I whined, "Baby, you make me feel so good."

Slipping a hand under me to cup one of my breasts, Harry started to roll his hips, and I thought I was going to faint with how overwhelmingly, breathtakingly _wonderful_ I felt. He left scorching hot kisses along my shoulder and up to the nape of my neck, and his warm breath on my skin sent tingles down my spine as he moaned and whispered the dirtiest and sweetest of words.

When I closed my eyes, I thought that it was like we were back in Italy; on our last night in Tuscany, when we fully took advantage of our last chance to spend the whole night fucking. I felt as close to him as I had then, and I was so grateful to the past-Harry and Layla for not giving up after our fight when I visited him in California. I'd known it then, and I'd said as much to Jeff, but it was moments like this one in a seafront hotel in Brighton when I knew that what Harry and I had was worth everything we'd gone through.

"I'm going to come," Harry suddenly whimpered in my ear, his thrusts sinking as deep as they could as he moved his whole hot, sweaty body over me.

I shivered with anticipation - feeling a delicious thrill from knowing he was close - and I pushed up against him so he could fuck me as hard as he needed to. Harry's breaths became laboured; interspersed with whimpers and moans as he repeatedly swore.

Suddenly I felt him push himself into me deep and hard, while he let out a low, guttural groan against the back of my neck. With a few more lazy, sloppy thrusts, he came to a stop and let out a breathless chuckle. Kissing my shoulder, and travelling up to my jaw, he slowly put his whole weight back onto me while I felt him soften inside.

Listening to Harry's panting breaths, I felt content and sleepy as I asked, "Good?"

"So good." After a few moments, he pressed a kiss to my warm cheek and mumbled with a sleep-laden voice, "I'm sorry, I wanted you to come again, but you felt so fucking incredible. I promise I'll make it up to you in the morning."

"I don't think I have the energy to come again." I knew I should get up and clean myself up, but as I lay completely sated and enveloped in the love of my life, the last thing I wanted to do was leave our bed. I was happy to stay in his warmth; contented, thoroughly worn out, and the happiest I had ever been in my whole, entire life.

**-**

We woke up to rain. The day before had been beautifully clear and crisp, but Brighton was now grey and dismal. I quickly got out of bed to open the curtains and saw there was no longer a sprawling view of the sea and the pier stretching out to the horizon, but a thick mist which almost blocked out even the white, tumultuous waves as they rushed up onto the pebbled beach. Hopping back into the warmth, straight back into Harry's waiting arms, the weather and the threatening champagne headache forming in the front of my head did little to dampen my mood.

"Do you want to go get breakfast?" he asked, before stifling a yawn against the back of my shoulder.

I shook my head, snuggling back into him fully and feeling his morning erection against my butt. "No. Do you?"

"I'd rather spend a little longer in bed with you." He kissed the top of my ear, hand wandering up over my stomach to cup one of my breasts. "Maybe we can stop somewhere on the way home for lunch?"

Humming in agreement, I felt my eyes grow heavy again as the lack of sleep caught up with me. A night of passion had seemed like such a good idea - and I had thoroughly enjoyed myself at the time - but the prospect of driving all the way back to London didn't exactly fill me with joy.

"Sounds good, baby." Catching his yawn and stifling my own, I rolled halfway onto my back. "So... last night..."

"Still feel the same way." Eyes closed and smiling, the hand on my breast moved to settle on my tummy. "Do you think it happened already?"

I couldn't help but giggle, placing my hand on his and wondering if he could feel the fluttering of butterflies I got at the thought of us _actually_ having a child together. Would they look more like him or me? Or would they have little bits of both of us?

"It doesn't quite work like that, unfortunately. I'll have to get my implant removed, and then it might take a while. And..." I paused, knowing that there was another reason I hadn't leapt at his suggestion easily. "Well, as you know, I've had difficulties being pregnant before. Or rather, staying pregnant."

Harry opened his eyes, looking adorably sleepy. "I know. But we don't have to rush, baby, I'm just excited."

"And I love you for that." Rolling over again, but so that we were face to face and our bodies slotted together perfectly, I placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "If you're excited, then so am I."

**-**

We snoozed for as long as we could, but as checking out time loomed closer and closer, we finally prised ourselves out of bed to pack and get ready to leave.

I packed most of our things away while Harry took a shower, then jumped in after him. The hot, steamy water felt so soothing against my skin as I stood under the shower-head, and for a moment, I just closed my eyes and let it wash over my body so that the worst of my hangover washed down the drain with the previous night's make-up and dead hair.

It had been a perfect night, surrounded by people I loved most in the world, celebrating two people who I loved most in the world. And, what had been the cherriest of cherries on top, was that I had been able to share it all with him; with Harry. Warmth spread through me as I pictured Carol leading him around to meet everyone, watching as he said hello and smiled as they spoke to him. He'd had no problems with making himself a part of the people I called family by joking with them, dancing with them, and even chatting with Rose's second cousin Colin, who was officially the most boring man known to all human-kind! Of course, if he hadn't felt comfortable doing that, I would have completely understood, but it was the effort I found so touching. That's what I loved - still - about us being together again: we were both making the effort to show how serious we were about each other.

Reluctantly turning off the water, and dreaming of the long bath I was going to take when I got home, I could hear voices as I stepped out of the cubicle onto the fluffy white bath mat. I wrapped a towel around my body and assumed that Harry had either decided to order last minute room service, or was on a loudspeaker call.

I was about to brush my teeth so I could pack away my toiletries, when there was a gentle knock on the door. It opened a little, and Harry's head appeared, taking me by surprise with the grave and tense expression on his face as our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.

"I'm sorry, Lil, but you need to come out here."

My heart was in my throat as I turned to look at him, thoughts racing with every possibility for his seriousness. "What is it?"

He exhaled sharply before responding, "It's about who went to the press. We know who it was, and you're... you're not going to be happy."


	41. Guilty Party (i)

I quickly got dressed and wrapped my hair up in a towel so it wouldn't drip water onto my clothes. I was stalling. I had no idea who was out there with Harry - I'd forgotten to ask in my panicked realisation that months of speculation were about to come to an end - and my mind raced with all of the worst possibilities of what I was about to hear.

With my hand on the chrome door handle, I took a few deep breaths, and went to face the music.

"Joel?" I said, vocalising my surprise before I could stop myself. "I'm sorry! I just... I wasn't expecting you to be here. Hello, are you okay?"

Thankfully Joel smiled, and his expression indicated he wasn't offended. "I'm fine. I'm sorry for interrupting your morning, but we thought we should let you know as soon as possible."

Harry looked incredibly uncomfortable when I glanced at him, his arms folded across his chest, and his jaw tensed. "We?"

His reply was clipped, barely concealing his eye-roll at having to speak to him, "Will."

Frowning, I was starting to get a little confused about what was happening. Why was Joel in my hotel room looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, what did Will have to do with it all, and how did any of it have any relation to mine and Harry's relationship going public?!

I felt like I was standing on the precipice of an enormous cliff, moments away from jumping into the stormy sea below. Knowing the truth was always going to be better, and I honestly did want to know who it was, but as the faces of my friends and loved ones flashed through my mind's eye, I was petrified it was going to be someone I trusted completely - scared of hearing a name and it meaning I could no longer have that person in my life.

"Okay, can someone explain to me what's going on?"

Joel sighed, heavily, glancing at the door like he was hoping someone would come and save him from the terrible task of not only being in the same hotel room as Harry and I but from also having to break some awful news to me. I sympathised with him, or rather I would have sympathised if I hadn't been confused and increasingly irritated out of fear.

"Fuck," he said suddenly, letting out a short, nervous laugh. "I don't know how to tell you this, Lilly, but... but it was Vicky. Vicky and Mia went to the press. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry they did that to you."

"What?" I paused, scoffing incredulously, trying desperately to process what he'd just told me. Looking at Harry, he nodded. "That... That's... That's bullshit. How do you know it was them?"

The room felt like it was beginning to spin, and I groped around behind me for the arm of the sofa so I could lean against it. My mind was racing with a million thoughts, and not a single one was coherent.

Joel was about to answer when there was a knock on the door, one I recognised as my ex-husband's. Harry went to answer it; touching my shoulder as he passed by as if to reassure me that everything was okay. 

Mia. And Vicky. 

I wasn't so shocked about Mia. She and I hadn't been friends for a long time, and she'd been open about not liking me when we'd spoken at the funeral - her father's funeral. After our conversation that day I knew we were never going to be friends again since she had little reason to be amicable now Terry was no longer around, but I'd thought we had reached an understanding. The biggest comfort I'd gotten that day was her reassurance that Terry thought of me as a daughter as much as I viewed him as a father. When she'd protested her innocence to me in Will's kitchen, I hadn't really bought it, but I'd also given her the benefit of the doubt because she was someone who'd known all about Harry and me for a long time. If she hated me that much, why hadn't she done it a long time ago, right? With that thought in mind, being distracted by wanting to comfort Will on what should have been his first wedding anniversary, and knowing I was days away from going back to Liverpool and seeing Bianca - she'd slipped through the cracks. She'd had a lucky escape.

But never in a million years would I have ever thought of Vicky colluding with her, or that Vicky had followed Harry upstairs and taken photographs of him kissing and comforting me.

Even with the benefit of hindsight and recognising that, of course, the two of them had been friends since school, and were still close, I just couldn't fathom how she could do that and still come into work and act like she was my friend. She'd even had the cheek to look me in the eye, ask me if everything in the article had been true, before telling me that everyone had my back! I hadn't experienced such a painful betrayal since finding Will and Terry in bed together. In some ways, I would have preferred it if it had turned out to be Bianca because I barely knew her; I couldn't categorically say if she was capable or not of doing such an awful thing. But Vicky? VICKY?! I trusted her, we saw each other every day, we socialised outside of work, and she had been integral to the success of 'Layla-Rose Events'. Christ, it had only been a few days since Rose and I had discussed if we should make her a partner! I didn't only see Vicky as a colleague, she was my friend. To realise that all of that had been nothing but a lie was well and truly heartbreaking.

Will rushed into the room flustered and furious, his phone in hand. He barely acknowledged Harry; other than a brief, tense smile thrown in his direction. 

Taking one look at my shell-shocked expression, he realised I had already been given the news. "Lil, I'm so sorry. I am so fucking sorry."

He went to approach me, arms extending as if he was going to hug me, but I held out my hand to halt him, and sharply shook my head. "No. Don't touch me." Dropping my arm down, I closed my eyes. "Sorry. It's not you, it's..."

"I know, you don't have to apologise, darling," he replied softly.

When I opened my eyes, it was like being confronted with my past, my recent past, and my present and future - Will, Joel, and Harry. A trifecta of men I loved who stood apart, watching me with concern, waiting for the shock to pass and the reality to hit. 

Clearing my throat, I swallowed the growing need to lose my shit, and asked, "How do you know it was them?" I looked at Will. "I thought you asked Mia and she said no."

"She did - and she's still denying it." Wil looked angry again, shooting a deadly glare at the phone in his hand. "Of course, I was still so broken about Terry, and she used that in her denial, so I believed her, but I just spoke to her and I know she's lying. She gave some half-arsed story about Vicky making her-"

"But what I don't understand is why? Why would either of them do it?" Harry interjected, asking exactly what I wanted to know, but was far too scared to ask.

It was Joel who spoke, but he didn't look at Harry, instead, he met my eye. "Vicky told me last night that Mia was still furious with you because of how close you were with Terry, and how he doted on you even though you, apparently, kept him and Will apart."

"For fuck's sake," I heard Harry mutter under his breath, once again vocalising my thoughts. 

Joel continued, but looked away; looking a little shamefaced as he confessed, "While Vicky and I were getting close the past couple of days, I might have played up how angry I was at you. Will and I had found some stuff out, so we were suspicious. And then I couldn't understand why she was so happy to hook up with her boss's - and friend's - ex." Bringing his brown-eyed gaze up to look at me, he paused before asking: "Layla, do you honestly want to hear all of this now?"

I could slowly feel the strong front I was putting on starting to crack. I wanted to know everything, I wanted to be completely prepared for when I had to speak to Vicky. (Mia was inconsequential - she'd have to deal with her own guilt when she realised that Terry would never have forgiven her for what she had done, and I suspected that was why she'd waited until after he died. She hadn't even waited for his ashes to cool before stabbing me in the back.) But it was painful to hear that their reasons in no way justified their actions. It was all out of petty bullshit! They'd exposed my entire life, exposed Will's, they could have ruined my relationship with Harry, and - as things stood - maybe even with Bianca; they'd brought abuse, harassment, and death threats to my door, and put the business at risk. All over... nothing. 

Sighing heavily, I touched my throbbing temple. "No, but I'll have to hear it eventually. I just have to ask: did you sleep with her?"

Joel looked a little uncomfortable; clearing his throat before answering, "No. I went to her room, but I- No, I didn't."

"Good. She's a prick, but if you slept with her to get information, that makes me feel yucky." I glanced at Harry before saying, "Sorry, carry on." 

"Uh... so, In the bar the other night, Rose had noticed Vicky and I were flirting, and she said I should talk to you before I did anything but it wouldn't be a bad thing if something happened because Vicky had split up with her boyfriend. She was worried that because Vicky was single again, she'd end up back with another ex-boy-"

"Heath." I rolled my eyes. "Not his real name, by the way. Yeah, he's a dick. He kept pla-" Suddenly, it hit me. Something so fucking obvious I felt stupid for not seeing it. I turned to Harry. "Heath took that photo. He took the photo of us in that bar that night you showed up at that event, the night you told me that you'd... I'd never met him before, or since, I didn't realise it was him."

Vicky's fuckboy ex-boyfriend, Heath, was an old business acquaintance of Rose's. He would frequently attend parties she'd worked at her old job - taking photographs of important guests to go in the back pages of 'Hello!' and 'Ok!'. As far as I knew, I hadn't ever met him properly, but I'd dried Vicky's tears enough times after he ghosted her or cheated on her to be more than happy to jump on the 'Heath's A Cock-End' bandwagon. Rose knew a lot of photographers - she knew a lot of people in general - and I hadn't known the name of the guy who'd taken the photo of Harry and me the night he'd confessed to cheating, so I hadn't ever put two and two together. As always, with the benefit of hindsight, and having been confronted with all of the pieces, it was far easier to put them together.

Turning back to Joel, looking for confirmation but still holding a small piece of hope I was wrong, he nodded. "Yeah, he took that photo of you two. He was their connection to the press, and that's why the paper ran it - he was connected enough that he was a credible source and one they were willing to protect. Vicky took the picture of you at the funeral, and Mia supplied everything else."

"Fuck!" I whispered, the word harsh and laden with hurt.

My hands started to shake, and thick, hot tears blurred my vision as it all fit into place and made it real. I felt foolish for not realising sooner; for not questioning how the papers had gotten hold of that photograph, and who had taken it. As far as I was aware, it had never been published anywhere. In fact, it was only because Will had mentioned it years before when he'd turned up at my house looking to stir up trouble that I even recalled Harry and I having our photograph taken that night at all. My mind had been on other things on both of those nights: the night Harry had told me he'd cheated with the actress, and the night I kicked him out of my life. I'd thought that photograph resurfacing had nothing to do with anything - to me, it had only served as a reminder of one of the worst times in my adult life.

I felt a tentative hand on my shoulder, and Harry quietly said, "Baby? Are you okay?"

Sitting up straight, I wiped my tears with determination. "Does Rose know?" Both Joel and Will shook their heads. "Good. Nobody tell her, okay? Not today."

Will shot a glance at Joel and then Harry, before asking, "Are you sure, Lil?"

I thought back to the night before and how Rose had been sparkling with happiness. She would kill me for keeping the information from her, but I couldn't burst her bubble the morning after her wedding. Because, while I hadn't ever met Heath, she had on several occasions. I imagined two scenarios: she hadn't put the two and two together either and was going to feel just as foolish as I did for not seeing what was so obvious now, or she had suspected something, and she'd even asked Vicky outright if her ex-boyfriend had anything to do with the article, and Vicky had lied straight to her face. My determination faltered at the thought of the latter; Rose asking Vicky if Heath knew why his photograph had been in that article, and Vicky acting just as confused about it but promising she'd ask him. 

I felt sick. 

More tears sprang to my eyes as the real pain of what Vicky had done began to sink in. She didn't solely betray me and Harry - she'd betrayed Rose, she'd betrayed the people we worked with, and she'd betrayed our business. She'd betrayed our family, something I'd always thought she was a part of.

"Definitely. I have to tell her this, but not yet. Okay?" 

I looked at the three men for the agreement, and, reluctantly, they all nodded. 

-

I'd told Harry I was fine to drive, thinking that it would do me good to have something to focus on instead of thinking about everything Will and Joel had told me. But then I'd had to give an Oscar-worthy performance down in the foyer of the hotel, acting like everything was fine as all the wedding guests converged to check out at the same time. 

"Hey, love birds!" Rose beamed at Harry and me. She was so happy - joy emanating off of her as she hugged us. "Where did you two sneak off to last night? Or shouldn't I ask?"

I laughed awkwardly as she wiggled her eyebrows and nudged me with her elbows. "I'll tell you later when there aren't loads of people around us."

"Ooh! Intriguing."

"Morning!" The sound of Vicky's voice sent a chill down my spine. She had the good grace to look sheepish as she approached Harry, Rose, and me, then I realised it wasn't because she sold my fucking life story to a goddamn newspaper, but because she'd tried to sleep with my ex-boyfriend and told him her dirty secret. "How's everyone feeling this morning?"

Rose - who'd apparently turned into a walking 'Carry On' movie since getting married - winked at her, "Probably the same as you, you little minx!"

Vicky's eyes nervously shot to me, and I hoped my expression was at the very least neutral and not a visual representation of the pure burning rage swirling inside me. "Lil, can we-"

"Don't even sweat it," I replied coolly, sinking my fingernails into the palms of my balled-up fists. "Like I told Joel last night: you're both adults."

Feeling a gentle tug on my elbow, I turned to Harry and was relieved to see it was our turn in the queue to check out. He pulled me forward, away from the conversation, and put a reassuring hand on the back of my neck (I suspected it was also to stop me from turning back around and giving her a public dressing down).

Not telling Rose was agonising - especially when watching her, Dee, and Vicky laughing as they hugged goodbye - it was like a punch to the gut. The way she was capable of acting as if she'd never done a single thing wrong to the people she'd stabbed in the back fucking sickened me. I wanted to tell everyone what she had done; I wanted to publicly humiliate her like she had me and the people I loved.

But it wasn't the time, and it wasn't the place. 

Somehow managing to say my own goodbye to her, it had taken everything in me to bite my tongue as we hugged so that I didn't channel my inner Mafia boss by hissing in her ear, "I know what you did, you fucking snake."

After all that, sitting in the driver's seat of my car, safe away from everyone and alone with just Harry - I finally broke down. Leaning against the steering wheel, I sobbed into the crook of my elbow, grateful for the gentle touch of his hand on my back as he whispered words of comfort. I was devastated and distraught. Although, in reality, those words barely covered how I truly felt, they were simply the closest. 

As Harry drove us home, I kept switching between being livid with rage, stunned and silent in disbelief, and crying. What had been the perfect week away with Harry and my family was forever going to be tainted because of Vicky and Mia. I hated both of them, I hated Heath, and I hated how I would never truly get to tell them how much I loathed them. I would never get that satisfaction, but more importantly, they would never get the satisfaction of seeing me sinking to their level. 

-

It was good to be home; to be safe within my four walls with Harry and Stan. I took a long, hot bath, then we cuddled up on the sofa together, ordered a take out that neither of us wanted to eat, and watched a movie neither one of us paid any attention to. 

Noticing Harry was off in his own world, his brow furrowed slightly as he stroked Stan's fluffy tummy, I realised I'd been pretty self-focused all day. However, in my moment of temporary calm, I could see that my beloved was troubled, himself.

"Are you alright?" I asked, reaching to stroke the back of his neck and getting rewarded by him leaning into my touch. 

Harry sighed heavily and turned his head to look at me. Chewing his bottom lip, he seemed unsure if he wanted to say whatever was on his mind.

"I'm fine. It's..." he eventually said. He held my gaze a few seconds longer, then looked down at the lazy, stretched out cat on his lap. "I just realised after today that the jealousy I feel over Will is nothing compared to what I feel when I see you with Joel."

That was not the answer I'd expected. "Why?"

"Because, unlike Will, Joel could have given you everything you deserve. I saw for myself this morning just how much he loves you."

It had been weird, the four of us - me, my ex-husband, my recent ex-boyfriend, and my current boyfriend - in one room, alone, unable to avoid each other. As I'd lain in the bath, thinking over the day's devastating events, I'd been able to appreciate just what Will and Joel had done. They'd been digging into it for months, and even Jeff had also been helping them, too (much to Harry's surprise). Slowly, they had pieced things together, and once Jeff had finally been able to get the name of the photographer of the picture of Harry and me, Will and Joel were able to figure out the rest. I didn't entirely feel worthy of it, but the time and effort the three of them had gone to for me, I wouldn't ever be able to repay them. I felt dreadful for ever thinking they were guilty. But, of course, none of it had changed my feelings for Will or Joel. They had been my knights in shining armour, but I wasn't about to ride into the sunset with either of them. 

Much to Stan's annoyance, I picked up Harry's hand off of his ginger tum and laced our fingers together. As the cat leapt off the sofa with a chirp and left in protest, I asked Harry, "But you know it's you I want, right? I'm unbelievably and forever grateful for what he did, but... I don't want to be with him."

Harry chuckled, bitterly, chewing on his bottom lip. "I think that's what makes it harder - if that ever changes, I'm fucked."

"Baby..." With Stan out of the way, I was free to move closer to the man I envisaged my future with. Turning his head so I could look him in the eye, I held his warm cheeks in my hands and wished we could go back a few hours to when we'd simply been excited about trying for a baby. "Baby, Joel is wonderful, and I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I do genuinely love him. However, I'm not in love with him, I'm in love with you. I want to have a baby with you, I want to be married to you, I want you."

"But-"

"But nothing, Harry. I didn't end my relationship with Joel because of you, I ended it because I didn't see a future with him." Catching the annoyance in my tone as tiredness kicked in, I paused to gently kiss him. When I sensed Harry needed a little more coaxing out of his sulk, I kissed him again, and mumbled against his pouting lips, "Okay, I'm only going to say this once, and I know I'm going to regret it. I have never seen a future with Joel, even though I really wanted to at the time-"

Apparently the lack of sleep and the events of the day were getting to him, too, because he was beginning to behave like a sleep-deprived toddler. Harry rolled his eyes and tried to pull away, moving to get up off the sofa with a huff just as Stan had done. "I don't want to fucking hear that, Layla."

Grabbing at the sleeve of his hoodie so he couldn't go anywhere, I sternly told him in a flash of anger, "Hey! I haven't finished, yet! Can I at least finish before you have a jealous tantrum? Because you're lucky I'm even entertaining this conversation right now after everything that's happened today. You're lucky I'm not questioning why that's the thing you're most upset about, and why you're making me feel like shit for it!" He didn't respond but made no further attempt to walk away, either. What had started off as me attempting to playfully confess that I had no problems picturing my future with him, had turned into us both being irritated and seconds away from arguing. "What I was going to say was that while I struggled to see a future with Joel, I have never had a problem seeing one with you."

It had been a long day, and emotions were frayed. I saw annoyance slip away in Harry's face, and his hard expression softened as a grin appeared on his lips. "Really?"

"Of course!" Pushing aside the tension between us, I took its place and climbed to sit astride his lap. There was nothing sexual behind the move (although I did get a delicious flashback of the night before when I felt a tight ache in my thighs), just a desire to be as close to him as I had when we'd woken up that morning. "My love, yesterday I watched Rose and Dee exchanging their vows, and got so excited because all I kept thinking about was when you and I do the same."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, hands reaching up to cradle my face. 

Being in that room with three men I knew intimately, there had never been any doubt in my mind over who I pictured a future with. What Mia and Vicky had done could have torn apart my relationship with Harry, but as he held me close and I buried my face against the curve of his neck, I took comfort in knowing that if nothing else positive came from finding out the truth, then at least I knew Harry and I were stronger and closer than ever.


	42. Guilty Party (ii)

Rose was furious. No, she was apoplectic. I told her a couple of days into January, when all the New Year's parties were done and our quietest month of the year began, and when I could no longer pretend there was nothing wrong.

I'd been as normal with Vicky as I could stand. I could tell that for the first day back at work after the wedding that she was waiting for me to reveal that I knew what she had done - telling her to fuck off and that her P45 was in the post - because there was no doubt that Mia must have given her a heads up that Will was on to them. However, when I said nothing and was perfectly polite, Vicky must have figured Will had bought the lie that Mia had given him. The sight of her turned my stomach; having to sit and bite my tongue in meetings with her - or as she helped Rose look through a list of possible venues for our belated staff Christmas party - took a strength I didn't know I possessed.

Asking Rose to stay late one night so we could talk, I waited for everyone else to leave and broke the news to her. 

"How long have you known?" she asked, wiping her eyes after she'd finished crying. Seeing my best friend cry was like a dagger to the heart, and it only made me hate Vicky and Mia even more than I thought was possible. 

"Joel and Will came to my room the morning after the wedding."

Rose frowned, "Layla! Why didn't you tell me before now?!"

I'd prepared myself for her to be cross with me for not telling her soon, so it didn't upset me as much, but, of course, I still felt guilty. "I wasn't about to ruin how happy you were over this, Ro! They caused enough damage without it spoiling yours and Dee's day."

"I know, but..." She shook her head in disbelief. "Absolute cunts, the three of them."

Nodding my head in agreement, I sighed, "Yep."

I could see the sadness and hurt in Rose's expression begin to fade; there would be time for that once we dealt with the situation. Fury started to replace it. "Well, she's fucking sacked. I don't care if it's unfair dismissal."

"Okay, I'm glad we're on the same page on that." I thought about telling our team that Vicky was leaving and I wanted to cry. Do we tell them the truth? Or do we let her leave with very much undeserved dignity? We'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it.

"Maybe we just suggest that she seeks other employment. She doesn't deserve that kindness from us, but for the sake of our team, and so we don't get sued... Fuck, I hate this!" Rose put her head in her hands, and I gently stroked her back. After a few minutes, she lifted her head back up, sighing, "I'm sure our Violet and Jen will be more than willing to step up to the plate and help cover Vic- her responsibilities."

"Listen, please don't lose your shit over me asking this, but..." I hesitated, watching her prepare to not only lose her shit but propel it into the fucking sun. "Did you have any idea?"

"Lil..." Instead of becoming angry, she looked close to tears. The hurt in her eyes was agonising; like I'd just ripped out her heart. 

"Not the whole thing! But, did you have any suspicions about Vicky and Heath? He took that photograph."

Rose sighed, rubbing her tear-filled eyes. "Okay, it crossed my mind that Heath might have had some involvement. I knew he was there that night, and that it was likely him who took the picture, but I... It didn't even cross my mind that Vicky was involved. You know that if I'd have suspected her for one second I would have told you, right? Even with Heath, I never had anything solid."

"Yeah. But you should have told me, anyway," I said, quietly. 

"I know," she nodded. "I'm sorry. I feel like a fucking idiot. I let you and Harry down."

My irritation passed quickly. She'd missed stuff, and I had, too. Mia, Vicky, and Heath had pretty much hidden in plain sight, so finger-pointing would do no good for anybody. Of course Rose would have told me if she'd had anything more than just a passing suspicion, but none of us had been too focused on the significance of who'd taken a picture of Harry and me almost five years before! I couldn't even remember ever discussing it with her - we'd been too busy arguing about me forgiving Harry, or she was too focused on making sure I was okay while I had a complete breakdown. It had seemed irrelevant.

"No, you didn't. The truth is, we were all blindly clutching at straws with no idea who it was. I thought it was Bianca, Harry would have bet money on it being Will."

"Have you spoken to Bianca?"

Dropping my gaze to the floor, I nodded. "The less said about that, the better."

When I'd called Bianca, I was amazed she'd even picked up. We hadn't spoken since our argument, except for a few texts for Finn's birthday and to wish each other a Merry Christmas, so I'd half expected her to send my call to voicemail. There was no trace of warmth in her voice as we made awkward small talk, and I dreaded the moment she asked what I was really calling about.

Which, of course, she did, and I told her that we'd found out who'd gone to the papers, and that I was sorry for accusing her. I'd been about to explain what I hadn't been able to when I'd asked if it had been her - the same thing I'd told everyone about being suspicious of everybody who had been at the wake - when she cut across me.

"Was that it?" she asked. "Was that the reason you called?"

"Y-yes."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know." With that, she'd hung up.

Reaching to hold my hand, Rose leant against my shoulder, "I'm sorry, Lil. I'm sorry it hasn't all worked out like you wanted it to with her."

My breath shook as I exhaled, tearfully. "I want to blame her hating me on the story coming out, but it has nothing to do with it, except for maybe bringing how she feels to the surface quicker."

"She doesn't hate you."

I turned to look Rose in the eye. "She does. You didn't see the look on her face when she was telling me about how it had been for her growing up. She was unloading years of pent-up anger and hatred towards me."

Any other day, my best friend - my sister - would have argued with me and told me to get a grip, but neither of us had the energy. Bianca wasn't going to be a problem that was fixed instantly and easily, it was likely to be something that took years - if ever.

"What are we going to do about Vicky?" Rose asked after a long silence. "I know we both want her gone, but do we do it first thing tomorrow? Or should we look at our rights when it comes to firing her?"

I cleared my throat, then said, "The problem I have with waiting is I am done pretending that I don't want to rip her throat out. I was even going to even ask if you minded me not being there when you spoke to her, but... I don't want her to get off that lightly. If it's okay with you, I'm going to go see her tonight."

"Are you sure you want to? I honestly don't mind doing it. I'd be glad to, actually."

"No, I think I need to. I'll go see her, tell her what I think of her, and tell her it's probably best she seeks other employment. If she chooses not to, I don't care because, either way, she's fucking dead to me."

-

I left the office after telling Rose about what Vicky had done, feeling heavier, and more burdened than before. Rose supported my idea of going to speak with her, but said we should conduct something a little more formal the following morning, which was fine with me. I just knew that although Vicky didn't deserve my time or energy, I also couldn't let her get away scot-free. She needed to face me, look me in the eye, and own her betrayal. 

Making the short walk from my car to Vicky's flat, I remembered how Rose and I had helped her move in - we'd both cancelled dinner with Will and Terry to help her because Heath had suddenly been too busy. It was moments like those that made what she had done so incomprehensible; if I'd been a shitty friend then I could understand it a little better, but as far as I was aware, I hadn't been. 

I rang the buzzer and Vicky let me into the building, she was waiting at her door when I got to the first floor. Her smile was wide and welcoming, but she looked visibly surprised to see me.

"Lil! Is everything alright?"

Debating taking the cordial route, I realised I didn't have the self-restraint. "I think we both know that everything is far from alright, don't we, Vick?"

I could see the cogs turning in her head; questioning if I knew the truth and if she could get away with denying anything. Shoulders sagging slightly, she stepped aside and gestured for me to come in. 

"Do you want anything to drink?" Vicky muttered once we were standing in her living room. 

"No, I want to get this over with."

"Layla, I-"

"If you're thinking of lying to me, I really don't want to hear it. I know what you did, and even though she's a fucking coward and won't admit it, I know what Mia did, too." 

"I don't need to lie to you," she replied, brazenly.

"Oh, forgive me," I sneered, "but seeing as you've been lying to me for the past year, I wasn't sure you were capable of telling the truth."

"I don't know how you know, but it's not like you think."

"Lie. Joel told me - so what I know is what you told him." Folding my arms across my chest - my heart racing as I struggled to maintain my composure - I gestured to her that she had the floor. "Please, do tell me how he got it wrong?"

Vicky scoffed, "Joel?! Jesus, Layla, he probably hates you more than I do!" I must have looked taken aback by her admission that she hated me because she quickly started to backtrack. "Not that I hate you! I just meant that he said some pretty awful things about you at the wedding."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop deflecting. I don't give a shit what Joel said to you about me, he already suspected you were involved. He has every right to be upset and angry with me, but seeing as he came and told me everything the following morning, I'd say he can't hate me that much. You, on the other hand, what on earth have I ever done to you to warrant what you did?"

She bit her lip and looked away. I imagined she was feeling thrown by Joel cosying up to her to get a confession, and if it was anyone else I would have felt sorry for her, but she had made her bed and the time had come for her to lie in it. 

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," Vicky shrugged, before meeting my eye again. There was a look of hate as she shed the mask of someone I thought was a friend, and revealed the real her. "It was Mia's idea to go to the papers, I just went along with it and helped through the connections Heath had. I took the photo at the funeral - I followed Harry upstairs. When I showed it to Heath he couldn't believe it because he had that one of you from a couple of years ago, and-"

Cutting across her, I scoffed and shook my head in incredulous disbelief. "Jesus. You can't even give me a legitimate reason for stabbing me in the back, can you? You did it because of Mia? You're a grown woman, not some fifteen-year-old being egged on by her mates." I could feel I was starting to lose control of my temper and giving her the rise she probably wanted. "You took a photo of Harry and me at Terry's funeral - Terry, the man who convinced us to hire you in the first place - and you sold it to The fucking Sun. You sold your soul to the devil for a mate who gladly threw you under the bus. Because that's what she did; Mia's blaming the whole thing on you."

"I'm sorry about the picture," she muttered, looking shame-faced for the first time since I'd arrived. "It's something I truly feel ashamed for."

"Oh, bullshit, Vicky! You're not sorry! If you were sorry, then you wouldn't have lied for so long."

"I was going to tell you when you came back from America. I felt dreadful when I saw the hate you were getting and how it affected the business - not that you knew, because we were the ones putting out your fires - but then you swanned off to Italy."

I felt dizzy, and I wondered if she spotted the jolt of my body as I experienced what felt like anger launching me into hyperdrive. Would I get away with it if I punched her square in the face? Could I handle life in prison for murdering this bitch? Balling my fists until my nails sank into my skin, I realised she wasn't worth the lawyers' fees.

"They were your fucking fires, mate! You went to the press, you brought that hate to my doorstep, you put the company at risk, and you were the reason we lost that client."

"Come off it," Vicky scoffed. "All of that would have happened when the relationship got out regardless! You two aren't exactly subtle, Layla."

"The difference is that it would have all been on me," I replied, trying to keep my voice from rising. "It would have been mine and Harry's call, me and Rose could have made sure that everyone in the office was prepared, and it wouldn't have come with my whole, entire life story! I'd have been a mystery woman, and that was it! You and Mia put everything at risk!"

"Yeah, yeah. We lost one client - big deal!"

"We lost an important client, and you know it! But it could have been so much worse. Not only that, but you put my relationship with Harry at risk, and have probably destroyed any chance I had of having a relationship with my sister."

I experienced a second lurch again as Vicky appeared unmoved and unbothered by what I'd said. I'd been right that she wasn't sorry, but seeing it so blatant was a tough pill to swallow - she didn't care that she'd caused so much damage, and, the reality was, she was probably glad of it.

It was time to go before I gave her anything more to gloat about. I'd had some hope of remorse, but there wasn't any.

"Well," I said, readying myself to leave, "as I'm sure you'll understand, Rose and I will want to see you in our office tomorrow morning, first thing. I'm extending a courtesy you don't really deserve, but while we're not firing you, I'd seriously have a think about coming in with your two weeks notice."

Looking angry, Vicky crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, "You can't do that."

"As I said, we're not firing you. But we don't want you there; Rose doesn't want you there." Emphasising Rose's name, I saw her flinch. "It's up to you, but you're a smart woman, you'll figure it out."

Turning to leave on jelly legs, I made it as far as the front door before she called my name and followed me. I stopped in my tracks and gave her the last remaining straw.

"I honestly don't hate you, Lil, I honestly don't," she said; expression callous and unapologetic. "I just don't like you. You cheated on your husband with a teenager, you dropped Joel the minute Harry Styles came back on the scene, and the stuff with your sister? That's kind of fucked up. You walk around like you're perfect, but you're not as nice or good a person as you think you are." 

Her words cut deep, and I struggled not to get upset or defend myself. I already knew all the terrible things about myself, and I knew that those things were easy to judge from the outside. She'd been my friend and someone I loved, but, as much as I was hurting, I met her cold expression with an equally hard exterior. She wasn't going to get the satisfaction of seeing that I was wounded by the knife she'd sunk and twisted.

"See, I don't hate you, and I don't not like you; I pity you. You're right that what you did hasn't honestly ruined anything for me like you and your little puppet master hoped. Harry and I are better and closer than ever, business is booming, and I have people around me who love and protect me. What do you have, Vick? Where are Mia and Heath now? And why are you the only one losing out from this?"

Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and left. I was shaken and upset, and dreaded the thought that she'd dig her heels in and refuse to hand in her resignation, but having the answer to a puzzle which had hung like a millstone around my neck for months was like a huge relief. Finally, I could just look forward and focus on my future.


	43. Calico Skies

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF CHILD LOSS AND TRYING TO CONCEIVE.**

I was sixteen, the first time I got pregnant. There were a group of lads who were a little older than me, who used to hang around by the shops by the bus stop I got off at from school. They'd shout stuff at me and the other girls as we got off the bus - crude, laddish things which made us all drop our gaze to the floor as our steps quickened until we were a safe distance away.

And yet, as violated and uncomfortable as their comments made me feel, it oddly excited me. I felt seen, and desired. In my messed up head, still grappling with what had happened only seven months before, I liked their attention.

His name was Stuart, he was the oldest of the gang, and the ringleader. He wouldn't ever shout anything with the others, he'd just laugh at their antics between puffs on his cigarette, leaning against the half-height red brick wall with a hand deep in the pocket of his red Kappa jacket.

We had sex in my single bed one evening when my foster parents went out. I don't remember too clearly how it ended up happening, except that he'd come and sat by me on the bus one evening, and after he'd walked me home he'd kissed me. He tasted like cigarettes and mint, and although I'd never been kissed before, he'd mumbled that I was a good kisser. After that, I'd regularly find him waiting at the bus stop for me - his gang nowhere to be seen, and a subtle nod and smile in my direction as he approached me when I stepped off of the bus. He'd walk me home, but always with a detour stop to the park so we could kiss. His hands would seek out the places where I longed for his touch but had never felt before; fingers creeping up my charcoal grey school skirt while he told me I was pretty and that he really liked me. I was naive and I believed him.

The first time hurt, even though he was surprisingly tender - like he'd done it before - and I remember how all the gel in his hair made a sort of crunching sound as it pressed against my cheek. I remember how he ignored me afterwards. It stung, undeniably, and I was humiliated. The boys stopped shouting as they left school and got real jobs, and he stopped meeting me at the bus stop.

Then I noticed I hadn't had my period for nearly three months.

Too scared to ask for money, I stole a pregnancy test from a chemist in town, and tried not to cry as I peed on it in the school toilets. At that moment, as I got an undeniable positive result, nothing worse had ever happened in my entire life - even what had happened with Bianca and my mother seemed to pale in comparison. I prayed and prayed for it not to be true; bargaining with the universe to make it go away and I would never make such a stupid mistake ever again. A few days later, I woke to blood-covered pyjamas, with the worst period cramps I'd ever experienced, and I wept with joy.

Standing in my shower twenty years later, crying as I cleaned away another loss - though this was only a handful of weeks - I thought back to the sixteen-year-old me. I remembered the relief she'd felt, and I wondered if that was why it kept happening to me. I hadn't wanted that baby, so I didn't get to have any.

After Stuart, there had been another one with Will; not long after we got married (shortly before we stopped having sex regularly). He'd been surprisingly sweet, sitting with me on the bathroom floor and holding my hand while I sobbed, telling me we could try again when I was ready. I'd been heartbroken, and although I knew that despite everything he would have been a wonderful father to our child, hindsight made it difficult to perceive that loss as anything but a blessing in devastating disguise.

The third - and I would never, ever tell Harry about it - had been a couple of weeks after I kicked him out of my house. I have no idea how it happened, and I hadn't had any clue I was pregnant until the hangovers stopped, but the puking did not. I was distraught when Rose and Terry forced me to take a test just to be certain, confused when it was positive, and utterly inconsolable when I lost it two days later.

I thought about telling Harry about the miscarriage when I'd told him about the others - I didn't want any secrets between us, and that was a pretty big thing to keep from him - but, as Rose had reminded me when she'd asked if I'd told him, that time already held so much pain for both of us, why add more on top of that? I saw no use in sharing that grief with him when there was nothing he could do about it. Rose and Terry were the only ones who'd known about it, so I made the decision to tell him that the third had been with Will, too. I wasn't keeping a secret from him, I was sparing him the pain and guilt I knew he would feel.

**\---**

Despite everything going on with Vicky and Mia, and all the increased pressure at work from losing someone so fundamental to the day-to-day running of the business, Harry and I threw ourselves into the art of baby-making with immense enthusiasm. It was a welcomed distraction from work, and an excellent excuse to have copious amounts of sex; any time, any place, any position, we were ready to go!

Even when Harry was away working on his new album, my mind was on babies. With Dee being pregnant, Rose was like a kid on Christmas morning, and we were both more than willing to indulge each other. They'd gone through IVF, they knew what it was like to get excited, hope that this would be the month and have that crushing disappointment when Auntie Flo decides to once again pay another visit. I helped them with nursery ideas and baby names, and Dee helped me prepare my body for pregnancy, and to make my womb as habitable as possible.

At the end of April, I was late. But, because I'd taken to doing test strips if my period was so much as five minutes past due, I forced myself to wait until it had been a full seven days.

On the Monday evening, after everyone else had gone home, and with Rose's encouragement from outside the cubicle door, I finally took the test. It was positive. She ran the tap, got me a pint glass filled with water, and produced an array of water-like noises so I could pee on a second and third test. Both positive.

Looking at the three narrow paper strips, all with two strong pink lines, which told me I was pregnant, Rose put a hand on my back and said, "Well, Layla James, I do believe you're knocked up!"

I was floating on air! I knew not to get too carried away, but I couldn't help let my mind wander off to how I'd tell Harry. Should I call when I got home and tell him right away? Or, did I wait the few days until he came home from America? That way, I could try to see my GP and get it confirmed, and maybe take another test that was slightly more aesthetically pleasing. I decided to do the latter, and wait until I could see his face properly, and not over a grainy video call. I wanted to see his lovely, tattooed, ring-adorned hands as they cradled my belly - which at that point was more food-baby than _actual_ baby - knowing there was a tiny zygote in there which was all ours.

My doctor confirmed it the following day, and I left the clinic feeling thoroughly wonderful (even with the morning sickness). For the first time ever, I was pregnant and felt nothing but elated! I was one hundred percent certain that I wanted to have this baby, and that fooled me into thinking everything would work out.

But, of course, the axe came down a couple of days later - the day before Harry came home.

It broke my heart; sobbing in the shower as I remembered my teenage self. I felt defective. Had I had a few more days, I could have presented Harry with a positive outlook - this was my fourth miscarriage, so I would go back to my doctor and see what she could suggest, what tests could be done, and if she could recommend a specialist.

As it was, the moment Harry had walked through the door with a smile that was wide, and a little sleepy from the long flight, I hadn't been able to pretend that I was okay. I broke down the minute I saw his face, somehow feeling like he was going to be disappointed or annoyed at me - I'd been the reason he was planning on having a baby so young, and I couldn't even do that right?! Logic told me that was nonsense, but as I cried in his arms and tried to find the words to tell him why I was upset, the ugly voice in my head told me that Harry would think I was a failure.

Unsurprisingly, that was bullshit. He was brilliant and so supportive, and although I could see that he was upset, too, he managed to share the load of grief; easing it slightly. He was a balm to my soul, and while it wasn't the welcome home I wanted to give him and not the news I wanted to share, I was glad he was home.

**\---**

Dee gave birth to a little boy on the 23rd of August - Alfred Charles William Fullerton-Barry. He entered the world with a shock of dark hair on his head, and an expression on his face which seemed to say he was thoroughly pissed off at having been evicted.

I had never seen Rose happier in my life. When I went to visit them and to meet my Godson, she greeted me at the door like a beam of sunshine, and Dee was much the same. The two of them kept gazing at each other with so much love, that it almost made me want to cry with joy for them. As I watched them with their son, I couldn't wait for that to be me and Harry; knackered, terrified, and utterly besotted with the tiny human we had been blessed with getting to take care of.

"He's so beautiful," I marvelled as Dee handed Alfie to me. Sitting down on the edge of the armchair, I told him, "Hello, Alfred Charles, I'm your Aunty Layla. You can come talk to me about anything you want; girls, boys, anyone in-between; how annoying your mummies are, why they gave you a ridiculously long name; anything."

Dee chuckled and sighed as she leant back against the sofa, her head falling to one side as she didn't attempt to hide her yawn. Apologising, she smiled and joked, "Aunty Layla and Uncle Harry will also be looking after you sometimes, so your mummies can get some sleep,"

"Oh yes! Uncle Harry will love that, won't he? We'll get to give you all our attention." Turning to look at my friend, I made sure she knew I was being serious, "Anytime, yeah? If you guys need a break, I will take him."

With the already tired eyes of a new mother, one who'd spent two days in labour, she smiled, "Thanks, Lil. Although, you and Harry might have to fight Will for babysitting duties."

"I'll crush him," I giggled. "I honestly don't think I've seen him so happy or excited - well, not for a long time, anyway."

"He's been an absolute babe. He cried when we told him we were adding William to the name, and I know it's a mouthful, but if it wasn't for him, who knows how long we'd have had to wait to get the ball rolling, and that little one wouldn't be here."

Will's journey from being the man he'd been as my husband, to the one he became, was staggering. And, for all the times I'd thrown playful jibes and teased him, I was unbelievably proud of how much he'd grown and how far he'd come. He'd helped our friends, and it had given him a sense of purpose again. He wasn't going to be a third parent, Alfie was Dee and Rose's child, but he was excited and eager to be the greatest uncle to the child he'd had a part in making.

"Are you doing okay though? I said the same to Rose, but if you need me to get anything, just let me know."

"I'm exhausted, I have stitches in my cooch, and I feel like I just pushed a bowling ball out of it, but," Dee looked at the sleeping baby in my arms, then to Rose as she came into the room with cups of tea - the tired smile turned to one of pure bliss, "I don't think I could be any happier."

**\---**

Baby Alfie's arrival reinvigorated me, and getting pregnant became an obsession. I'd read through forums of other women who were trying to conceive; reading their stories of losses and the glimmers of hope of their successes. I charted my temperature every morning and night, researched which food I could eat to help my chances, and what positions were best for optimal egg fertilisation. Harry seemed to think it was normal at first, but when he came back to finish the album in England, he quickly noticed that babies and getting pregnant was all I seemed to talk about. Thankfully, he pulled me from my bubble to see sense.

"The more you focus on it, the more you're going to stress, and that's not going to help," he said, whipping my phone from my hand to stop me reading whatever it was I'd found upsetting. "Baby, you got pregnant before without doing anything drastically different."

"Yeah, and look how that worked out," I huffed, reaching for my phone as Harry raised it up high out of my reach. "Gimme!"

"No. I'm confiscating this for the night, and we're going to talk about anything else." His voice was firm, and I felt guilt creeping in.

The baby mist slowly blew away, and I realised I'd been narrow-focused. Everywhere I went, babies had become high on the list of topics. Rose waxed lyrical about Alfie and all his daily developments (and because I was head over heels for him, myself, I was perfectly content to have him be the topic of conversation when we weren't discussing work), Dee was obviously as equally obsessed, and Will wasn't too far behind the both of them. And if we weren't talking about Alfred Charles, I was bemoaning how I yet again wasn't pregnant. I'd been so deep inside a baby bubble that I hadn't noticed just how bored of talking about it Harry was. I knew it wasn't good for our relationship, and it certainly wasn't healthy for my mental health.

Exhaling loudly, I dropped down onto the edge of the sofa and muttered, "Fine. Maybe you're right."

A subtle, lopsided smirk appeared on his lips as he slipped the phone into his back trouser pocket, "What was that?"

"You heard me," I replied, trying not to smile as he leant over me.

"No, no, I don't think I did."

"Ugh! I said, 'Fine! MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT!'"

Laughing, Harry took hold of my face, and his large hands splayed out over my cheeks as he tilted my head back. For a second he just let his eyes wander over me, and I felt warm and loved under his gaze. "I know how much you want this. I want it, too. But it'll happen when it's meant to."

"I know."

Gently brushing his lips over mine, he whispered, "Remember what we agreed? If nothing happens by Christmas, we'll look into other things."

"Yeah."

I didn't want to tell him, but there was a part of me which worried that maybe Christmas would be too late; that any chance I had of conceiving could be gone by then. I imagined my womb as a barren wasteland, and my ovaries as two dilapidated wooden shacks, blowing the thick dust off the odd moth-eaten egg, before pushing them out every so often. It didn't matter that the doctor had said my ovaries appeared healthy and that I was producing a better than average amount of eggs for a woman my age. The specialist had said I was just unlucky, but because we hadn't been trying for a full year, they saw no need to rush into IVF. I just had to be patient, and I had to not let the whole thing consume me. It was still only early, and there were always other options if it did turn out I couldn't physically carry a baby myself. Those words became my mantra.

**\---**

As promised the year before, Harry and I spent Christmas in Holmes Chapel with his family and friends. Even though my relationship with Gemma and Anne was infinitely better than it had been, I couldn't deny that I was apprehensive about spending it with people I didn't know particularly well. But, just like Harry had told me they would, everybody made me feel like I was a part of the family, and it made missing my own family that little bit easier. It was so wonderful getting to know the people who simply saw him as their Harry; who wouldn't put up with his competitive streak, or who told him off for sneaking a ball of stuffing off of the baking tray while they cooled before dinner.

On Boxing Day, Harry and I went for a walk in the countryside he'd grown up in. I wore the new, black Wellington boots he'd given me, and let the brisk December air blow away the cobwebs of stress I'd been tangled in all year. As was always the case when I visited his home town, and saw the sweet familiarity of the area my grandparents had lived in, I got a feeling of being reset and refreshed.

Harry and I walked in comfortable silence, the sky a bright, chilly blue, and the sun bright. Arms linked, I gazed up at him - admiring his profile - and realised I just had to let whatever was going to be, be. Whether we had a baby or not, I was completely in love with him, and what I needed to focus on was the fun we had, the passion and desire we felt for each other, and our life together. He truly was right: the rest would fall into place.

**\---**

I flew out to Miami at the end of January to join Harry there for his birthday. He was meant to be performing at a show, but bad weather had stopped play and he had to pull out at the last minute. He was gutted; that was evident as we flew to California the following morning so we could celebrate with his friends (not that he was particularly in the mood to do any celebrating).

Getting back to his house, Harry was still quiet. I sent him off to get a shower while I fixed him some coffee and breakfast, hoping to cheer his mood before we met everybody for lunch. I hated seeing him so disappointed, especially on his birthday.

"Feeling any better?" I asked as he appeared in the kitchen, wearing a white vest and jogging bottoms. His hair was still wet, and he wore it swept back off of his handsome but grumpy face.

With a disgruntled noise that told me he, in fact, did not feel any better, he kissed my cheek and shrugged, "Meh. A bit."

"Would opening your presents cheer you up?"

He rolled his eyes, sighing in irritation, "Not really, Layla, no."

I opened my mouth to start to call him out on his attitude, planning on telling him not to take his shitty mood out on me, but stopped myself. He was upset and disappointed, and understandably so, so what I needed to do was just leave him alone and let him be. If I bit back, I suspected we would end up fighting, and I certainly didn't want that again - not after what happened on my first visit to L.A. to see him.

Pointing at the food I'd prepared, I told him, "Eat that, drink some coffee, and I'm going to pretend you didn't just talk to me like that," then left him to sulk while I went upstairs to freshen up and unpack.

**-**

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me when I wandered into the bedroom from the shower. He was idly playing with the pink, metallic ribbon I'd used to adorn his main birthday gift, and turned to look at me when he heard me walk in. As our eyes met while I continued to towel my hair, I could see that some of the grey cloud he'd had hanging over him was gone.

Giving me an apologetic smile, he said, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't me-"

I cut across him, softly replying, "I know you are, and it's okay. I would be just as pissed off and disappointed."

"I know, but I shouldn't take it out on you."

Butterflies fluttered awake in my tummy as I watched his ringless fingers fiddle with the loops in the bow on his present; excited for him to see what was inside. I told him, "Open it. I have others you can open later, but you should open that one first."

Picking the flat, rectangle box up off the bed, Harry flashed a lopsided smirk at me as he pulled the bow loose and tore the wrapping paper open. I moved to stand closer to him; watching his face intently as I nervously wrung the soft towel in my hands. I'd had a job trying to come up with something to rival every gift he'd ever gotten for me, especially when for my birthday the year before he'd organised for us to have a candlelit dinner in Abbey Road studios. Harry was a master gift-giver, and I always needed to up my game.

Inside the box was a white leather photo album, and he glanced up at me with a puzzled smile as he lifted the cover. On the first page were three photos: a baby picture of Harry, a baby picture of me, and below those, in the centre, was a black and white picture of a small, grey blob.

"Lil..." Harry began, before looking up at me with wide eyes, "...are you...?"

I chuckled nervously, "It's still early days, and it could still go wrong, but yes I am."

He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand as he started to cry. Placing the album I hoped would one day be filled with pictures of our child (or, dare I hope; children?) down onto the bed, he stood up and enveloped me in his embrace. The anxiety I'd had about telling him, and imagining him freaking out when us having a baby was no longer merely a concept, began to dissipate as he peppered my face with overjoyed kisses, telling me how much he loved me.

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry asked, as his hand slipped under my towel to settle on my tummy. "Were you okay to fly? You should have told me so-"

"I'm fine, H, I promise. I was going to tell you last night, but it wasn't the right time." Standing on tiptoes, I kissed the concerned little furrow between his brows. "Of course there are risks with flying, but my doctor booked me in for a scan because of my history, and she okayed me to fly. I just have to take things easy."

He cradled my face in his hands, and kissed my lips gently, before mumbling against them, "I wish I'd been there for the scan."

"Dee came with me, so I wasn't alone. And you can come to the next one."

Harry's arms held me close, and he grinned, "You know, I'm going to wrap you up in cotton wool for the foreseeable future, don't you?"

"I know you are."

As he leant his forehead against mine, I thought about him being attentive and loving as my tummy grew. I pictured him talking to my bump, reading baby books, and coming with me to Lamaze classes. I prayed with all my heart that the feeling of odd certainty that everything was going to be okay was genuine. 


	44. Step Inside Love

**2020**

**Harry**

The sound of the buzzer alerted me that Layla had arrived and that she was driving through the gates. Giving dinner one last check, I took a generous gulp of my red wine for some Dutch courage and went to greet her.

It wasn't often that we'd spend the night at my house. I'd been away working a lot, and when I was home we usually stayed at Layla's so it was easier for her to get to work and so Stan wasn't left alone. Or at least that was the reason she gave, but I suspected there were parts of the house that still brought back the memories of some awful times between us. Usually, I was completely fine with that, it made little difference to me because I loved being in her space, but with some persuasion, I managed to convince her to come to mine for the night - soon to be _ours_ if dinner went well.

Opening the front door, I watched as she grabbed her bags from the boot of the car and I instantly knew she was irritated about something. As soon as she saw me approach to help with her stuff, she told me she didn't need any and launched into a rant about the traffic, then about one of her clients deciding at the last minute that they wanted real snow at their 'Christmas in July' event. I listened as she spoke, waiting for her to run out of steam, and enjoyed how when she was especially annoyed about something, the Scouse accent would make an appearance.

Layla dropped her bags to the floor, then huffed loudly before looking at me with a guilty grimace. "Sorry, I was ranting wasn't I? I've been threatened with death at least ten times today because I've been so grumpy, so be warned."

"You were, but only a little, so it's okay." Seeing her smile and the way her stretchy, black dress clung to her curves as she shrugged off her camel-coloured coat, my heart began to race. She had always taken my breath away, but no more than in the time since she'd come back into my life. I loved her more and more every day. "Rough day?"

"No, not really, I'm just being a naggy cow. I'm tired, and the day seemed to drag on forever," Layla guiltily chuckled and came close to me, wrapping her arms around my waist as she laid her head on my chest. I felt her relax her body against mine, she then tilted her head back and sniffed the air before saying, with what sounded like cautious surprise, "Did you cook? It smells so... good?"

I stroked a hand down her back and smiled, pleased the first phase of my plan seemed to be working. "I have cooked, and hopefully you'll like it. Although, I'm not sure if I should be offended or not about you being surprised that my cooking would smell good."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she replied, rolling her eyes and leaning up to kiss me. "So, what's on the menu, Chef?"

"Mmm, why did I just get a little turned on by that?"

"Because you're a pervert."

Sliding an arm around her shoulder as she giggled, we strolled into the kitchen just as the timer sounded that dinner was ready. Layla offered her help with anything, but when I told her I didn't need any, she went to sit at the table and took a long drink of water from the glass I'd filled for her. It still gave me a rush of excitement to see her in the house, looking comfortable, looking like she belonged.

It had struck me the day that we'd come back to the house and decided to give our relationship a real go, even when she'd walked in and I could see it written on her face that she was expecting the worst from our conversation, that her mere presence changed how I felt in my own home. I'd instantly begun to picture Sunday mornings in the kitchen together, having her belongings mixed with mine, going to sleep in the same bed every night and her waking me up to say goodbye when she left for work. I hadn't wanted to rush moving in together, I was well aware that her house and her independence meant too much to her, but I liked the idea a lot.

"So, I've been looking up recipes that I think will be good for you..." Setting the bowl down onto the placemat in front of her, I watched her face for a reaction. "It's got roasted butternut squash, carrot, and ginger in it. It's meant to help, and it's got loads of vitamins and stuff."

Layla warily sniffed at the thick, orange coloured soup, before picking up a spoon and taking a small, tentative mouthful. We waited for a couple of seconds, and then she looked at me like she was about to burst into tears. Standing up, she hugged me tightly, and suddenly an afternoon of chopping, blending, and stressing over if she'd be able to stomach my cooking all seemed so worth it.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," she grinned, sitting back down and taking a bigger spoonful. "Oh god, H! This is so fucking good! I'm sick of toast and water, it's so nice to taste real flavours again."

Sitting down next to her, I couldn't contain the smile on my face over having successfully found at least one proper meal that didn't have her sprinting to the toilet. We ate in near silence other than music playing on a low volume to fill the quiet, and the occasional ecstatic moan from the satisfied woman next to me.

"Tasty?" I asked, pleased she was finally able to eat something substantial.

"That was amazing!" Eyeing the empty bowl like she was about to lick it clean, Layla leant over and kissed my cheek. Her voice was low and sweet as she mumbled, "Thank you, baby, you're so good to me."

"I'm just glad you liked it. There's more if you want some? And there should be enough left for you to take for lunch tomorrow."

"You're an angel." She placed a gentle hand on her stomach, "Let's see how this goes first before I have any more, I don't want to run before I can walk."

Nodding that it was probably wise, I reached across to put my hand on hers. "So, how's he been today?"

"He?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "It's a girl, I'm telling you! I can feel it in my bones."

We looked at each other with wide smiles, still unable to believe that we were going to be parents. It didn't matter if the baby was a boy or a girl, of course, but it was certainly exciting to guess. A baby! Our baby! Layla was going to be the mother of my child, and no words could adequately describe how that idea made me feel. I was scared, excited, thrilled, amazed, head over heels in love with her, and a myriad of other feelings.

She'd gotten pregnant after a couple of months of us trying, but after she miscarried before she had the chance to tell me she'd had a positive test, we started to think that maybe we should look into other options - especially when in the following months, nothing happened at all. I could see it was starting to take its toll on her, and I knew my words of patience and reassurance were falling on deaf ears. She was frustrated, and couldn't understand why when all the doctors she saw told her everything appeared healthy, and she was doing everything right, that nothing was happening.

But then, before going out to celebrate my birthday with our friends, she told me she'd taken a test - a lot of tests - and had it confirmed by her doctor, that she was pregnant again, and so far everything was fine. The look on her face told me that she was scared I'd freak out when hit with the reality of it, and not just something we were attempting - especially as we'd just been arguing. But, all I felt was an almighty swell of emotion when I thought about her with a baby bump and getting to take care of her.

Not to say it wasn't a shock! I certainly questioned my capabilities to be a father for a few days afterwards - which Dad reassured me was perfectly normal when I'd called to tell him - but I wasn't doubtful about having a baby with her. As the one going through the pregnancy, Layla had managed to get her head around it a little quicker than me, but it was certainly an adjustment for both of us. A wonderful and exciting adjustment.

Getting up and clearing the bowls from the table, I tried to sound nonchalant as I said, "So, I know we've talked about this, but-"

Layla gasped loudly, then narrowed her blue-grey eyes at me - somehow making them appear icy cold (a move she seemed to have learned from Rose). I should have known she'd cotton on as soon as I attempted to bring the subject up. "Harry Styles! You swine!"

The meal had been a ruse, all part of my plan to try and convince her that maybe it was time to think about moving in together. She was having my child, and I wanted her somewhere I knew was safe, somewhere we could start becoming a family. I'd have been more than willing to move into her house, but mine was safer and more secure, and it had a better chance of keeping us safe and keeping our privacy. Maybe it had been a little underhanded, but I'd hoped that finding food that didn't instantly trigger her morning sickness would sweeten her up enough to have a serious discussion about the matter, and to also prove that I was taking my role as future-father seriously.

It evidently had not worked.

Layla folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, a look of pure defiance on her face. I loved the new, strong, independent Layla, but her stubbornness was occasionally a nightmare.

"It's not happening," she said, fully establishing that the matter was not up for discussion.

Leaning on the island counter, I did my best not to back down either. "I'm not saying it has to be right away, but I want you here. You don't have to sell the house-"

"Oh, I don't? Why thank you! That's very kind of you, Harry!"

"You know what I mean, don't be difficult." She let out a little 'harumph' but didn't argue further; knowing that she was deliberately misunderstanding me. Trying a softer approach, I moved back over to the table and sat back down next to her. Even when grumpy, I found it hard not to adore her. "I'm not saying that you have to give up anything you've worked incredibly hard for, what I mean is... Don't you think it would be nicer to be under one roof? We could start deciding what we want to do for the nursery, we can make this house our home." I put my hand on her tummy, "I need to know that you're both safe."

Reluctantly, Layla unfolded her arms and dropped her defences. I knew why she was so reluctant to move from the home she'd poured her heart and soul into, and I knew why she was reluctant to move into the house we'd had some of our worst moments in, but she also knew why my house was more equipped to keep our baby and us out of harm's way. We'd also had some wonderful times here; in the same room I'd confessed to being the biggest idiot on the planet, we had also agreed years later that we wanted to be together.

Voice soft, she touched her hand to my cheek, "Baby, I know you're worried, but I'm fine as I am for now. You're going to be on tour, so I'd feel much better in my own space. It'll happen eventually, but while I can still see my own feet, I'd rather keep things as they are."

"But-"

"Please, can we not argue about this?" Sighing, she ended the conversation by finally telling me the main reason she didn't want to turn her life upside down just yet, "It's early days, anything could happen. I'm happy, you're happy, so let's enjoy that for now. I don't want to get too carried away until I know everything's fine."

This wasn't her first pregnancy, but it was her longest so far; long enough that it had felt safe enough to tell close family. Knowing Layla's true concerns, I backed down and nodded. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"I'm not saying no, I'm saying not yet." Leaning forward she cradled my face, her long nails - which were painted to match mine - gently scratching at the scruff on my jaw before she kissed me, deeply. "I love you, thank you for dinner. Even if it was under false pretences."

I was still worried, - I worried all the time - but what she wanted was truly more important. Our lives were about to go through a major, life-changing upheaval, so, as much as I wanted to protect her, I had to let her move at her own pace. She was right, there was no rush just yet. Quite literally, we would simply have to take baby steps until the time was right.

"I'm sorry. I honestly did just want to find you something that didn't make you feel sick." I turned my head to kiss the heel of her palm. "And, I promise this isn't an attempt to persuade you to do anything you don't want to, but I have something for you."

There was suspicion on her face as she watched me get up from my seat. "Did you not hear the part earlier when I said I was grumpy today?"

Chuckling, I handed her the gift; her fingers sank into the soft package wrapped in white tissue paper as she delicately held it. "I'm hoping this will cheer you up. It's not from me, it's from Mum."

"Oh." Layla hesitated for a moment, before carefully unwrapping the present. She gasped as the white, woollen blanket was revealed, then looked at me with tearful eyes. "Oh!"

"It's the blanket I came home from the hospital in," I explained, picking up the note Mum had added and handing it over.

She held the blanket to her chest, holding it tight as she read the card. She'd gone from wary and suspicious to tearful and joyful in a matter of seconds - I guessed her rollercoaster of emotions was something I would have to get used to for the foreseeable future.

"Doesn't she want to keep this?" Layla asked, running her thumb over a corner where there were three yellow ducklings sewn into the corner of the fabric. "I love it, it's beautiful, but I... "

"If she didn't want us to have it, she wouldn't have sent it." I stood up so I could go and stand behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Kissing her cheek, I whispered, "Just think how wonderful it'll be to bring our baby home in that."

**-**

Layla had often told me that watching or being in the same room as the person you were in a relationship with whilst they were being sick, and not being repulsed by them, was up there as a major sign of true love to her. Despite that, and despite the soup having had her seal of approval as a success, she refused to let me in the bathroom with her as nausea took hold and the whole thing came back up.

"I'm fine," was her muffled reply through the door when the heaving had subsided enough for me to ask if I could do anything. I felt completely helpless. "Give me ten minutes and it'll settle down again."

Fifteen minutes later, she appeared in the doorway, looking thoroughly miserable - mouth downturned, bottom lip protruding, and shoulders slumped. I patted her side of the bed and tried not to laugh as she shuffled over.

Getting onto the bed, she put her head in my lap and muttered, "I'm sorry you have to hear me being sick. I must be so attractive to you right now."

"I actually have a throbbing erection right now, I'll have you know." I smoothed my hand over her hair, brushing it up off her slightly damp neck with my fingers so she wasn't too warm. "Does that count as a sign of my true love for you?

She limply moved her hand up my thigh, groping around and discovering there was no stiffness to be found. "Liar." Rolling her head, Layla looked up at me with a playful look in her eye. "It doesn't count if you're lying."

"It's a metaphorical erection," I teased, "one that's supportive of you."

Rolling back over, she shuffled her bottom half over closer to mine, and groaned in a voice which was laden with tiredness, "I'm exhausted. I'll stay like this, you can just pull the quilt over me and I'll be sweet."

I sat up carefully, so as not to squish her head on my lap, and reached to pull the blankets over us so she disappeared from view. Laying back down, I wriggled my way down the bed until Layla and I were face to face under the covers.

"Hi," she smiled, her warm breath minty fresh as I placed a gentle kiss on her soft lips.

"Hi," I replied, pulling her against my body, my hand moving over her hip to settle on the curve of her behind. "Are you okay? I also read that ginger tea can help. Did you want to try some?"

"No, I just want to stay here like this until it gets too hot." Shaking her head, she stifled a yawn, then wrapped her arm around my body; hand sliding under my t-shirt to idly rub my back. I kissed her again, finding more than ever that I wanted to lavish her with love and attention - which I hadn't thought was possible. "I told Bianca about the baby, earlier."

"Was she happy?"

"She was! I thought she was going to cry." I liked how her face lit up as she talked about her sister, despite how strained the relationship was. "She's already an Aunty, but I guess it's different because we'll all share blood; me, her, Finn, and the baby. I suppose it was nice to know she feels that way, too."

"Of course she does, baby, you're her sister," I replied. "She loves you, and she's probably excited Finn's going to have another cousin to play with."

"Oh!" Layla looked like she was about to burst at the thought of our child and her nephew playing together. Sniffing, she said, "Can you believe it? I keep thinking it's sunk in, then something will happen and I suddenly remember - we're having a baby."

"It hasn't fully, yet."

"I was just thinking how nice it is under the sheets, alone, just the two of us," she chuckled sweetly, touching her tummy. "We're hidden away from the world like kids in a storm, but then I'm like: 'Oh! It's actually the three of us!'"

The thought made my heart skip a beat and my tummy flutter with love and excitement; the three of us.

"That's how it's going to be from now on. Just you, me, and our little sunflower seed."

Layla snuggled up close to me, placing lazy kisses against my jaw. Sighing happily, she said, "I like that."


	45. City Life

Once the morning sickness had begun to settle, I found myself loving being pregnant. Of course, there was a split-second every morning when I woke up - or felt an ache or twinge - that I prepared to feel something I was trying to hold onto come away, but by some miracle, I seemed to have a tiny fighter who was determined to stay put. But, what I loved was knowing that there was a little human being growing inside of me, a person who would be tied to me forever; who would one day have their own dreams and likes and dislikes. Even before I felt any movements, I loved the thought that I was never alone anymore - when I was driving to or from work, when Harry had to go away for a night or two and I was in bed by myself, I would cradle my tummy and have the comfort of knowing that there was a part of him with me in our child.

That was something I treasured as his tour grew ever closer. We'd both agreed when we'd started seriously trying to get pregnant that there was no urgent need for either of us to put anything on hold career-wise. I knew full well that a new album meant he would want to go on tour, and I also knew how much he loved touring and performing, so even when I did get pregnant, I'd been quick to reassure him that we would make it work. Somehow.

With that in mind, I arranged to have my twelve-week scan a little earlier so that he could come with me; if he couldn't make any of the others, he'd at least been able to come to the first proper one. Because, despite my hopefulness, and the front of confidence that everything was going to be fine, I was finding it easier to go into the scan with an attitude of 'hope for the best, prepare for the worst'. If the worst happened, I wanted him with me.

In the small, dark room, Harry sat by the side of the bed, tightly holding my hand while he rested his lips against his other, which was balled up in a fist. Despite his obvious nervousness, he quietly chuckled when I winced at the cold gel being squeezed on to my tummy, and I narrowed my eyes at him in mock annoyance.

"Okay, let's see what we have here," the sonographer said quietly, pressing the scanner (which made me feel a little bit like a barcode) firmly down onto my lower belly.

I felt like my full bladder was about to burst, but the need to pee was a secondary need after wanting to hear that everything was okay. I watched her closely; the cheerful, chatty demeanour was quickly replaced with an excellent poker face, her expression unreadable as the angled screen flickered. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

"Everything looks fine to me," she finally smiled. Turning the screen so Harry and I could look at it, she told us, "I'd say you're exactly twelve weeks, so that makes your due date... roughly September fourteenth."

Wiping tears from my eyes, and reluctantly tearing my gaze away from the minute cluster of cells that I was already willing to die for, to look at Harry, I chuckled, "That's the day after my birthday."

"Is it?" Glancing at my notes, the woman grinned, "Oh yes! Well, can't get a better gift than that, eh? Though, I'm not sure I'd want to spend my birthday in labour."

As she warned us that, of course, the date was a guesstimate, Harry stayed silent. His eyes twinkling with tears, he smiled from ear to ear whilst keeping his attention firmly fixed on the flickering black and white image on the screen. When I turned to get one final look at our creation, he lifted the hand of mine he was holding, up to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to the back of it. It was a small gesture, but it was all I needed to know that he was just as happy and awestruck as I was. Harry and I were having a baby.

**\---**

Life was pretty wonderful, and then the unimaginable happened: lockdown. As the world gradually came to an almost stop, Layla-Rose was momentarily caught in limbo between being 'advised' against hosting events in clubs and bars, but there being no rule against it; Harry, Jeff, and his team all started to accept that the tour couldn't go ahead without putting his fans at risk, and Rose flat out told me that I was going to be working from home - no arguments. It was all in slow motion, but new rules were happening daily until, finally, the whole of the UK was put on lockdown.

Rose and I were in contact constantly; doing everything we could to be sure that we wouldn't have to let any of our staff go, that we wouldn't lose our office, and that we could still afford to pay our own bills. It was all the stress I'd been warned against when I got pregnant, but after everything that had happened with Vicky, our team were a tighter family than ever, and we had to fight for our business.

It was terrifying, but I was grateful that I was healthy, that my friends and family were okay, and that Harry was at home and not on the other side of the world, stranded.

Reluctantly, I packed up Stan in his carry case and agreed to split our time between Harry's and mine. If ever there was a test of our relationship, this was it. We were trapped in a space that was his, living under one roof, living by his rules.

Except, that wasn't how it was at all! He was adamant that he wanted me to feel at home, and encouraged me to make it my space, too. He helped me set up a space in the room we were going to turn into a nursery which I could use as an office; helping me to make it look pretty for my Zoom meetings, before joking that he'd have dinner on the table for when I got home from work. He'd then disappear off to his studio set-up, then reappear every so often to kiss the top of my head and rub my tummy (which was becoming more and more rotund), before going downstairs to make some more coffee.

With everything in the world feeling so bleak, it was nice to have our moments of quiet domesticity, which was something I hadn't ever had with him before; he was usually doing this or that and about to rush off to somewhere else, or we were on holiday, so even if we weren't doing anything special we were in a spectacular location. This time, however, we were simply at home, doing our own separate things, together. The house where I'd had one of the worst nights of my life was beginning to feel like a home to me. (Stan had even found a few spots which were perfect for flopping over and laying a sunbeam for a few hours, so what more could I ask?)

Had I been a more sceptical person, I'd have suspected that Harry had caused a global pandemic just to prove that I would actually enjoy living with him in that house.

**\---**

As restrictions started to ease, separate households were allowed to meet outside or within a 'bubble', i.e. as long as you'd all been staying home and being safe, you could meet indoors, too. I was looking forward to seeing my friends in person, I'd missed their faces not pixelated, and I _needed_ to cuddle my adorable godson.

After much convincing that I would be perfectly fine without him, Harry left to go on a road trip to Italy with his friend, Tomo. He'd asked if I wanted to come with them, but as lovely as it would have been to visit Italy again, the idea of being nearly eight months pregnant and cooped up in a car for hours on end - I couldn't think of anything worse. So, I chose to stay in London and spend a little time with my friends. Harry was itching to go and do something, being home for so long was beginning to drive him crazy, so I encouraged him (and his dad moustache) to go and have fun.

For Alfred Charles's first birthday, in lieu of a birthday party, Rose, Dee, Will, and I -with Alfie, of course, and Cariad the dog- went to one of the last remaining remnants of mine and Will's marriage - a beach hut in Tankerton, which was a walking distance away from Whitstable. It was something I'd convinced him to get, and because the waiting list had been two years long, when Will and I went through the delight of splitting our assets, we'd surprisingly agreed that we should keep it. It was a fair size, painted with cornflower blue and white stripes, there was a tiny kitchen area - complete with sink and a small but mighty stove - and a comfortable sofa bed which would come in handy for Alfie's nap. It was at the front of the four-deep rows of huts, with only a concrete path separating it from the pebble beach, so it had a completely unobscured view of the sea.

Will picked me up at around nine in the morning, and the sun was blazing hot even at that time. My ex-husband came to help me with my belongings, kissing me on the cheek hello as he grabbed the camping chair I was going to take for fear of sitting down on the pebbles and not being able to get back up.

"Lil," he beamed, pushing his black aviators back to sit on his sandy blonde hair so he could look me over properly, in all my pregnant glory, "you look beautiful. Can I feel?"

"Of course." Gesturing that he could place a hand on my now very visible baby bump, I chuckled, "I look like I've swallowed a beach ball. And the tiny daemon kept me up half the night doing somersaults and having a kick-about with my bladder."

Will laughed, his palm warm over my maxi-dress. "You're enjoying it, then?"

I moved his hand so that he could feel roughly where the baby's head was, and grinned at him, "I am honestly loving every second, Will."

It could have been us, it could have been our baby, and as he gave me a genuine and warm smile, we shared a moment of knowing how different our lives could have been. In another world, a different Layla was pregnant or had a baby with Will, they were still married, and maybe still living a lie. But that wasn't us.

Pulling his hand away, he dropped his sunglasses back down to cover his eyes, and said, "Good." 

**-**

We drove to Rose and Dee's place, where there was more talk about my baby bump, then drove in convoy to the Kent coast. It was so wonderful to be out of London, to be out of the city and in some fresh air. I felt like I hadn't seen green fields or hills in aeons, and it was truly a sight for sore eyes. I nearly passed out with joy when I saw the sea!

Carrying all our belongings down the narrow path down to the seafront, the sun was well and truly making its presence known - beating down on us even despite the gentle breeze coming from the water. The one thing I was positively not enjoying about being pregnant in the summer: sweating in places I didn't know could sweat. It didn't help that I was still trying to keep my bump hidden (something that was becoming quite the task!) so I wasn't able to remove my loose jacket until we were at the hut. Tankerton was great because it had wooden groynes which created perfect divides on the beach, so as long as the beach remained quiet-ish, then we would have our section to ourselves, and there was no risk that I would be noticed looking like I was carrying a watermelon under my cossie.

I could imagine the pithy headline: **I CARRIED A WATERMELON, SUGAR**

It felt good to be with my people. As we got ourselves settled, the four of us chatted excitedly about what we'd been getting up to in lockdown, and I finally got to give my not so little godson lots of hugs and attention. I'd missed them, more than I'd realised, and as much as I'd adored spending so much time with Harry, it was refreshing to talk to other people.

Despite his grumpy arrival, Alfie had grown into the happiest of babies. He hadn't long taken his first steps and seemed to be overjoyed by the weird, squishy stuff under his little toes where the pebbles gave way to sand as the tide moved further out. Dee and I held his hands as we took him near the water's edge, laughing as he squealed with delight at the surf rushing towards him, covering his feet and splashing his bare legs.

"Just think," Dee said as we tread carefully back up to where Rose and Will were sitting, Alfie in her arms, "this time next year, we'll be doing this with your little one!"

I couldn't contain the grin which spread across my face, a hand instinctively going to my tummy. "I hope so! We'll have to start doing this every year."

"Aren't you curious about what you're having?"

I shook my head. "I did want to find out, but then with scans being delayed and Harry not being allowed to come in for them, we decided to just wait and see. I keep using female pronouns though by accident."

"I wanted to do the same," Dee replied, pointedly, when we were within earshot of her wife. "But _someone_ was too impatient."

"That don't sound like you, Rose!"

Rose rolled her eyes, silently reaching her arms out with a towel so Dee could pass Alfie to her and dry him off. "Did you enjoy that, bubba?" she asked, kissing his forehead and rubbing his feet. "My brave boy going in the water with Mummy and Aunty Lil, eh?"

"And what about you, French, have you told Layla about who was your first port of call when lockdown was eased?" Dee's face was mischievous, nudging me lightly before sitting down on one of the red tartan picnic blankets.

Will shook his head, his cheeks pinking a little as he intently focused on Cariad - who was too scared to go into the sea without her owner. "We're friends!"

I did, in fact, know about the visitor Will had had, but still, I quirked my eyebrows up as I settled in my chair (which did not feel entirely safe on the rocky slope, but I wiggled my butt until the legs sank a little further down). Tommy and Will had been close since the hen week in Ibiza, but something which had been mere flirtation, and much-needed hope that Will could have a life beyond being a widower, had become something with the potential of being serious. He'd been cagey with the details, downplaying it as them just enjoying each other's company, but he had told me that they were 'enjoying each other's company' on the regular before Miss 'Rona had kiboshed 2020, and had been pretty quick to resume that enjoyment as soon as they could.

Will's bashful smile as he tried once again to tell us all that there wasn't anything going on between him and one of Dee's oldest friends, was so lovely to see. I'd been worried about him - alone in that big old house, no work to distract him, questioning the future of his company, missing Terry - I wasn't sure how he was going to cope. But, to my relief, he seemed genuinely happy! On the drive down he'd mentioned he was thinking about possibly selling the house, the business was okay for the moment, and whatever it was he shared with Tommy was clearly a good thing.

"We should have dinner; the six of us," I suggested. Noticing Will going to protest, I hastily added, "Listen, Tommy's very obviously in your life one way or another, and we all know him already, so why wouldn't we have dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh yeah, I'm sure Harry'll love that!"

"Balls to Harry!" Frowning, I waved my hand, "He'll be fine, he knows that you're family to me. Besides, it's about time you both moved on from all that nonsense."

Rose scoffed, "Pigs will fly before Harry forgives Will."

Despite me shaking my head, she was spot on - Harry had no intentions of forgetting about Will kissing me at Terry's funeral. It had been two years since that had happened, I was carrying his baby, and I was repeatedly adamant that I viewed my ex-husband as a brother, but there was no budging him on the matter. If it was down to Harry - which it wasn't - I would never see Will again.

"Well," I tried again, "the way I see it, I'm about to push Harry's baby out through my vagina, so he can at least have dinner with all of my friends."

Will had fallen silent, smiling only when Alfie reached out to be held by him. A lone cloud in a sky of blue passed over the sun, and for a moment I felt chilly. I understood Harry's feelings, truly, but despite never outright declaring them, he hardly hid his dislike, either. Even if he hadn't gone to Italy, I doubted he would have come with us to the beach, because he wouldn't have wanted to be around Will. It made things complicated, but I had to hope they'd move past it.

**-**

We left shortly after five, hoping to beat traffic, and with the plan to all go back to mine for some food. I didn't want to say it, but I was missing Harry terribly. I'd grown used to him being around all of the time, so even though I'd encouraged him to go, and I was glad to have some time by myself, I wasn't overly excited to go back to my house alone.

My belly was rumbling loudly when we got back to mine, and I was driving Will insane by incessantly talking about what I was going to order. He parked on the opposite side of the road to my house, while Rose parked a few cars up. Getting out of the car, I immediately heard my name being called in a way which sent a chill down my spine.

"Layla!"

Turning my head, I spotted a youngish guy appear from behind one of my neighbour's cars, pointing a lens in my direction.

"Shit!" I groaned, holding my beach bag to my side in hopes of covering my bump, but I knew it was too late.

It was my own fault, I had been too warm to put my jacket back on when we were in the car, and I hadn't had any photographers outside my house in so long that for a little while I once again lived in a world where it wasn't a concern. Still, I was kicking myself. I'd been so careful to keep the bump covered, and the day had been so relaxing that I'd stupidly let my guard down.

"Go inside," Will told me. "I'll bring your things, just get inside."

Closing the car door, I could sense the guy was closer, so I did as I was told and turned to race across the road after making sure it was safe to do so. I searched inside my handbag for my keys; head down, swearing at all the crap which was making finding them a nigh-on impossible task, and cursing Harry for being right about not using headphones with wires anymore. Hearing Cariad barking loudly, I turned to look over my shoulder, and then I felt my body lurching forward. I'd been taking a step up onto the pavement, and the front of my sandal had caught on the concrete edge, causing me to trip and fall.

I landed on all fours, dropping everything so that my hands and knees hit the paving with heavy force. Grit grazed the first few layers of skin, and the pointed corner of one of the slabs jabbed into my knee-bone, making me cry out in pain and surprise. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I put a hand to my stomach as shock and panic rushed to the surface.

"Lil! Are you okay?" I heard Will behind me, looking up at him as he quickly hooked Cariad's lead over one of the points on my wrought-iron gate and rushed to my side. "Are you alright?"

Tearfully, I replied, "I- I don't know."

"Is she okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "Can I do anything?"

"Fuck off!" Will snapped at the voice, making me realise it was the photographer. "You've done enough, mate. Fuck off, before I call the police."

Suddenly, there were more hands on me - Rose and Will helping me up onto my feet. My knees shook as I took tentative steps towards my front garden, and I started to cry while my friends reassured me that everything was going to be fine. Their words were useless, and my thoughts were already descending into a spiral of every dreadful possibility.

My friends led me into the living room and sat me on the sofa. Rose and Dee sat with me - with Alfie fast asleep in his pushchair despite having been hastily moved out of his car seat - while Will went to get me some water.

"Are you okay?" Rose asked, taking my hands in hers so she could wipe away the dirt on my palms. There were some nasty looking grazes, but I barely registered the stinging pain when all of my attention was on praying to feel some kind of movement from my baby. "Do you want to call the police? Go to the hospital?"

"I don't know. Is he still outside?" I replied, voice small. _Okay Layla, you have to do something! This is serious, and you can't shut down._ "My midwife. I'll call her and see what she says. I don't want to risk going to a&e unless I have to."

She nodded her head, "Okay, that's probably best."

"He's gone," said Dee, getting up to go to the window and look outside to make sure he had. "I spoke to him briefly when I went to get the pushchair. He was hanging around on his phone, so I made sure to get his name, and he surprisingly gave me his details. He seemed genuinely apologetic and pretty shaken up, himself."

Rose was loud as she cried, "Good! He's lucky I didn't tear his head off!" before grimacing and checking to see she hadn't woken the baby.

Will came back into the room with an ice-cold glass of water, and as he passed it to me - the cold condensation heavenly against the cuts on my hands - he asked, "Should we call Harry?"

Head snapping up, I thought about Harry being miles away, panicking and rushing back just because I'd fallen. It had taken ages to convince him that he was fine to leave me alone for a few days, and if he knew this had happened then I would be back to getting wrapped up in cotton wool. I wished Harry was with me, but I didn't want to worry him until I knew there was a reason to worry.

"No!" Shaking my head adamantly, my voice was firm. " _Nobody_ is tocall Harry, right? I will call him when I need to, but until I know what's going on, he doesn't need to know. He will lose his shit when he finds out as it is, and I don't want him rushing back and being reckless."

-

The baby was fine. I was told to keep an eye on any spotting or quieting of movements, but the heartbeat was strong and normal, and the scan didn't show anything to be concerned about. I felt stupid for causing such a fuss, but as my midwife reminded me: it was better to be safe than sorry.

Because of regulations, I'd gone for the check-up on my own, but Rose and Alfie were waiting for me in the car park. She was making him laugh by animatedly singing about a 'fumongous' whale swimming through the water, and his loud giggles were like music to my ears as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"How was it?" Rose asked as soon as I sat down.

"Everything's good," I exhaled, finally letting the relief wash over me. Had Alfred Charles not been in the car, I'd have started sobbing. "I just have to take it easy, and let them know if I stop feeling any movements. But the heartbeat was normal, and we saw some hand waving, so that was a relief."

"Phew! That's a fudging relief!" Rose grabbed my hand, and confessed, "I didn't sleep a wink last night! I didn't want to worry you more than you already were, but I've been in bits with anxiety."

Her concern was genuinely touching - although not at all surprising - but her commitment to not swearing in front of Alfie caused me to belly laugh. It had been almost twenty-four hours of pure hell, but I felt lighter and happier. My little sunflower was fine and made from tougher stuff.

Still, as we drove out of the car park, and I glanced at my phone and noticed two missed calls from Harry, I ignored them. I wanted to go home and cry with relief, and then I'd call him and tell him everything.


	46. Our House

A marathon of _'Salvage Hunters'_ and _'the Repair Shop'_ , clementines, chocolate, and plenty of water - I lay on the sofa, eating happily, trying to ignore as my phone lit up yet again with a call from Harry. I knew I needed to speak to him, and he was probably getting a little worried by my silence, but I couldn't bring myself to answer and hear his voice. If I heard him, I would ask him to come home, and I'd spent long enough trying to convince him I was fine.

Another problem, and one which was purely as a reaction to how badly shaken up I was by the fall, but I couldn't help doubt if I wanted to raise a child where photographers - _strangers_ \- were trying to take photos of them! I knew it was a little late in the game to start worrying about it, really, but with lockdown I'd lowered my guard a little, and I'd been in a bit of a joyous baby bubble. That pap turning up unexpectedly had thrown me - literally - and I was reminded that any child Harry and I had would be of interest to people.

So, whilst I wasn't about to back out of any relationship with Harry (the time we'd spent together in quarantine had brought us even closer together, and I was more certain than ever that I wanted to be with him), I still needed to talk myself down off the ledge before we spoke.

Popping a clementine segment into my mouth (which was lovely and cold from where it had been in the fridge), I sighed and turned my attention back to the TV.

"Baby! Why aren't you-"

The sudden sound of Harry's voice coming from the living room door brought a blood-curdling scream to my mouth; causing me to cough and splutter on the juice of the soft fruit I had been enjoying. Picking up the nearest cushion to hand, I threw it at him, aiming at his head, but it softly hit his tummy and fell to the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, HARRY!" I managed to yell after I stopped coughing. "You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"I'm sorry! But I've been trying to call you all day to tell you I was coming home to make sure you were okay!" He picked the cushion up off the floor and tossed it back onto the sofa. "Why are you ignoring me? Are you both okay?"

My heart was still racing, and I hoped the whole road hadn't heard me. "'Cause you're a weirdo who turns up at women's houses unexpectedly all the time, mate! Jesus Christ."

"Well, answer your bloody phone then, next time. I thought something was seriously wrong, Lil, I've been worried sick. Are you and the baby okay?"

The shock at his sudden appearance was beginning to settle, and something else replaced it: suspicion. He hadn't just coincidentally decided to come all the way home from Italy for no reason; oh, no, someone had called him despite me telling them not to.

"We're fine. I had a scan this morning, and everything's fine. So, go on, who was it? Who called you?"

"Will did, but-"

I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling. "Oh, of course he did. That pain in the arse, I'll wring his flamin' neck when I see him."

"I was going to say: but so did Dee-" That took the wind out of my sails a little- "and I'm glad they did! Jesus, Lil, you can't keep that sort of thing from me. That's my baby, too!"

"I didn't want to worry you." My words sounded idiotic and small in the face of his visible hurt and concern. Because it would take much longer for me to get myself up off the sofa, I patted the rose-pink velvet cushion so he would come and sit next to me, but he stood firmly where he was. "Baby, I promise, if I was absolutely certain something was wrong, then of course I'd have called you immediately."

Harry looked sceptical. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, "Dee said you had a hospital appointment, was everything okay? I've been calling all afternoon, I thought..."

His voice cracked, and my heart broke. Heaving my body up with a little difficulty, I went to him; touching his face despite his stony demeanour.

"Everything's fine, I promise. I'm okay, and the baby is, too. I'm sorry I worried you, that's exactly what I was trying to avoid."

"You have to tell me this shit, Lil," he sighed, softening a little as he lowered his gaze to hide his upset. "I've never been so scared in my life."

Fuck. I felt like the worst human being on the planet (and considering the shit show 2020 had been, I had some tough competition for the role). He was right, of course he was, I should have called him as soon as my doctor and midwife agreed it was best I went to get checked over. I had to stop behaving like he and I weren't a team; like I was doing it all on my own. Seeing him, - despite his annoyance and upset - I felt glad that Will and Dee had called him, I was relieved he was home to make everything better.

Pulling him to me so that he laid his head on my chest, and his arms wrapped around my ever-expanding waist, I mumbled against the top of his head, "I'm sorry. I should have called you. I'm sorry."

Harry hummed with some scepticism, no doubt wanting to reaffirm that I should have, but not wanting to keep the argument going. However, he took his opportunity to say, "Please, will you just admit that it's time to move into my place? We spent most of lockdown there, and it was great. Wasn't it?"

He lifted his head to look at me, and I pulled away so I could go and sit back down. His house was safer and allowed more privacy, and it genuinely had started to feel like home. That awful night when he'd admitted cheating on me, made me meet Gemma despite not being in the right headspace to, and then the following day when we'd had sex on his couch and it was truly awful and I'd cried - those memories had faded away, and replaced with newer, beautiful ones.

The first time he felt the baby kick, we'd been in his bed, about to fall asleep. His hand had been on my belly, body spooning against my back, and his breath warm on the nape of my neck. Suddenly there was an almighty kick against where Harry's hand lay, stronger than I'd ever experienced, and strong enough for him to feel.

His head had popped up, "Was that...? Was that the baby?"

There was another one, a little gentler but enough to make him gasp in excitement (followed by a fluttering of movement that he couldn't feel). Turning my head to look up at Harry as best as I could in the dark, I told him, "It sure was."

He'd cuddled up against me, enveloping me as he peppered my cheek and shoulder with kisses, before settling on my lips.

"That's our baby, Lil," Harry had whispered, his hand stroking my tummy like he was cradling the universe, " _our_ baby."

When we'd talked about it before the lockdown, I'd been so reluctant to permanently move out of my home and move into his. In fact, I'd pretty much shut the conversation down because I wasn't ready to relinquish that much of my independence. I hadn't even officially lived with Joel; he'd spent most of his time at my place, and I'd stay at his when it had been his turn to have his daughters stay, but at the end of the day, we'd still had our own homes, separately.

I liked having my own security, somewhere that was mine if everything turned to shit. I'd given up my independence for Will, and I was terrified of taking an enormous step back, but Harry had long since proved that my life with him would be nothing like how my marriage had been. I knew I'd end up moving in with him eventually, yet I'd been stalling, and I'd been glad of having my house to escape to when Harry had gone to Italy. I was scared of being alone in that house, but... but I wasn't going to be alone. I was having a child; his child.

With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that Harry was right. I was having his baby, and as much as moving in together scared me, none of it was as scary as when I'd thought I was about to lose our baby. It was time I made a leap of faith and met him halfway.

"Fine. Yes, okay, you're right. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."

"Really?" To his credit, Harry tried to hide his triumphant grin as he rushed to sit next to me. "Do you actually, really want to?"

Another memory popped into my head; then another, then another. Lots of little moments of us temporarily living together in quarantine, and the prospect of having that all of the time - even when it was not an enforced requirement - made me smile, "I honestly do."

"We'll really make it our home, Lil. I want it to feel like it's your house as much as mine." Tucking hair behind my ear, he let his gaze wander over my face. "And if you honestly hate it, we can move."

"I know you don't believe me, but I don't hate it. I just like my space, and there's Stan."

"He was okay, wasn't he? The cat hair in various spots of the house tells me that he was fine."

I could see how much it meant to Harry, and I was getting to the point where the things I could do physically were becoming limited. I was seven months pregnant, and I wanted to be in a space where I could relax, nest, and prepare to give birth; I didn't want to be stressed about packing and unpacking boxes. The longer I left it, the more likely it was that I would be doing the latter.

"You have to help me pack, right?"

"Of course!" He placed his tattooed hand on my rotund tummy and was instantly rewarded with a hefty kick. Eyes lighting up as we looked at each other, this time Harry made no attempt to hide his triumph. "I think someone else agrees with me."

Tears sprang to my eyes with relief. There hadn't been a lot of movement since the fall, and I'd begun to think that the ones I had had were in my imagination, but that reaction to their father's voice and his hand on my belly was undeniable. He'd felt it, too, and it was like our child was telling us: 'You need to get ready for me; I'm staying here until my eviction notice, and then I'm going to change your life forever'.

Leaning to kiss Harry's cheek, I told him, "I'll look into removal companies, tomorrow."

**\---**

Swimming in a sea of bubble wrap, newspaper, and boxes - I gradually packed up my life to leave the first house which was truly all my own to move in with Harry (even the one I'd moved into after splitting with Will had been one _he'd_ bought for me). Because I was going to rent the place out to Dee's sister, Mariah, and her husband and baby, most of the furniture was staying; but even still, the process of packing seemed to take forever. Thankfully, Harry was true to his word that he'd help, and I managed to rope my friends into helping, too.

"I keep thinking about the day you told me you'd slept with Harry Styles," Rose quietly said to me, pausing while wrapping photo frames in newspaper. "Imagine what that Rose and Layla would think if you told them that one day you'd end up having his baby and moving in with him."

Melted ice cream in the park, a dash to the nearest beer garden, and my best friend's stunned face after telling her I'd cheated on Will with a pop star. A pop star ten years younger than me, and one who'd gone silent after our afternoon tryst in a hotel. Now, I could hear Harry in the kitchen as he made coffee for himself, Rose and Dee (who'd taken Alfie upstairs for his afternoon nap), and chatted to Stan; responding to the cat's beep-like meows as though they were deep in conversation. It truly seemed like a lifetime ago since Harry and I first met. That Layla would never believe it if I told her how important he would become to her, and the current me struggled to believe the turn of events some days, too.

Chuckling, I replied, "I believe the words 'piss off' and 'you joker' would have _definitely_ been used."

His ears must have been burning, because Harry appeared in the doorway of the living room with three mugs and a smile. "Glad to see you're both working hard," he teased, setting the cups down before feigning to wipe sweat off his brow. "I've been making refreshments, lugging boxes and furniture, all by myself!"

Rose laughed loudly, "Listen to this! He makes a cup of coffee, carries two boxes and a chair, and now he's complaining."

"Ignore her, my love, you've been extremely helpful. But I did tell you that Will offered to help." Letting it slide when he rolled his eyes and shook his head, I added, "Speaking of Will, he suggested a girls name for the baby that I think you'll like."

Humming sceptically, he folded his arms across his chest and perched on the arm of the sofa, he answered, "Did he."

I'd committed a schoolboy error - I should not have told him it was Will's suggestion, or I should have told him afterwards, because I could see him shutting the name down regardless of whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, he did. Rhiannon." Something flashed across Harry's face before he quickly reset his expression to indifference and boredom. "It was Terry's mother's name, and I think it's the first one I genuinely love."

"Won't Mia have something to say about that?" he asked.

"Mia can fuck off," muttered Rose, sipping her coffee.

I gestured to her in agreement, "Yep, exactly what I was going to say. And, it's not exactly like I ever want to be in the same room as her ever again, and our children certainly won't grow up together. She could use it, too, but Will was certain that Terry would have suggested it to me, and that he would have wanted me to use it. Do you like it?"

Harry shrugged, trying not to smile. "I suppose. I mean, I don't hate it."

Seeing an opportunity to tease him, Rose clapped her hands together, "He bloody loves it! Look at that little face! Is that a dimple, Styles?"

I got up from my kneeling position on the floor - carefully manoeuvring through boxes of records and CD's (and because I'm old, some cassette tapes, too) - and made my way over to him. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he settled a hand on my behind, I kissed his cheek softly. He liked it, but he didn't want to admit it, and he would just need some gentle coaxing.

"Rhiannon Styles. How's that sound, baby?" I muttered, stroking my fingers through the waves of his hair.

Harry groaned as he turned to bury his head against my chest. If the name had come from literally anyone but Will, he would have been overjoyed at the idea of naming our child after a _'Fleetwood Mac'_ song. He was probably kicking himself for not suggesting it himself, but he hadn't, and it had come from the worst possible person.

"Maybe," Harry grumbled, hands finding their way to my bump. "If we have a girl, then it can go on the 'maybe' pile."

Kissing the top of his head, I chuckled as I asked Rose, "You heard that, right?"

"I sure did!"

Harry lifted his head, and frowned at the two of us as he pouted, "I don't like it when you two gang-up on me."

**\---**

The move to Harry's was smoother than I'd planned, and the more I unpacked and integrated my things with his, the more comfortable I felt. It was a huge step for me to finally live with someone again; to not have my own place to go if he and I argued.

Other than sorting out my clothes in my own space in his wardrobe, I hadn't been allowed to do much else. There were things I had for the baby which I wanted to put into the room we still needed to turn into a nursery, but Harry had told me that we could face that mountain together the following day. Instead, as evening approached, he encouraged me to take a nice relaxing shower, get into my comfy clothes, and we could then enjoy our first night together as a cohabiting couple.

Standing under the warm-ish water, my head was still racing with a long to-do list, but it was bliss to finally cool down after a busy, hot and sticky day. I glanced down when I felt the beginnings of little one's evening wriggles, and once again noted that I could no longer see my feet. It was lucky Harry liked having painted nails because he was going to have to do my toenails for me.

When I emerged from the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, smiling at me, mischievously. After letting his gaze wander over me in my pyjama vest and shorts - admiring my pregnant belly with a look that was equal parts awe, adoration, and even desire - he asked, "Better?

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "Much, thank you. What are you up to? I thought you went to get food?"  
"I wanted to show you something, first. Come with me."

Harry stood up and reached for my hand, kissing me quickly before leading me out of the bedroom and onto the landing. We only took a few steps, before coming to a stop outside of the would-be nursery. Giving me another quick peck on the lips, he then opened the door.

Mouth agape, I stepped into the perfectly decorated nursery, stunned that Harry had not only been paying attention when I'd bombarded him with a million inspiration pictures, but that he'd gotten it all ready rather than leaving to me. All the walls were a light grey, except for one, which was papered with grey and silver striped wallpaper. There was a changing table with drawers, a nursing chair and footstool for late-night feeds, and hung above the spot where the cot would go once the baby had arrived safe and well, was the mobile I'd bought; a dark gold colour sunflower-like sun at the top, with smaller stars and crescent moons underneath.

It was simple and neutral - exactly what I wanted until we got to know our little one.

"I know you didn't want the cot up yet, but I did a test run, and I am confident I could put it together quickly," Harry said, touching the back of my neck and kissing my temple. "We can add the stuff you've brought with you tomorrow and make it a bit more colourful."

Fighting back tears, I wrapped my arms around his middle in a tight hug. "Baby... this is beautiful. When did you do this?"

"I took advantage of you not being here when I was in Italy. Is it what you wanted?"

"I love it, it's absolutely perfect."

He placed his hands on the side of my face, tilting my head up so we could look at each other. I thought back to Rose's comment about the past me and her; the Layla who was married to someone else but who instantly had a connection with Harry Styles, who'd flirted with him in a nightclub, who'd agreed to meet him in a hotel. It had been a journey to get where he and I were - a long and bumpy one - but I didn't regret a single second of it, because it led us to the moment we stood in.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "I'm so happy you're here, and I can't wait for our little sunflower to get here, too."

I loved when he called our child that. The nickname stemmed from me telling him that my pregnancy tracking app had told me the baby was the size of a sunflower seed - which I'd thought he would like because of his song ' _Sunflower Vol. 6_ '. He hadn't just liked it, he'd adored it, and as the months passed - and until we could choose a name - the nickname had stuck.

"I love you, too. More than you'll ever know."

**-**

I was downstairs, in the living room, looking for a pen, when I found it - the card from the roses I'd sent him for his first night on SNL when he and I hadn't been talking. The scrawl was someone else's, and there wasn't a name, but it was my message:

_'Harry,_  
_Good luck with the show, or is it 'break a leg'?_  
_Lots of love_  
_Xxx'_

Seeing it threw me for a second, and I stopped my search to stare at the simple, white rectangle card. We'd never talked about the bouquet of baby pink roses I'd sent; he'd never asked if I sent any to him, and I never asked if he got them. But there was the card, tucked away in a box in a drawer, along with a photo of me in my holiday rep days, which he'd had me send to him years before and must have had printed.

The reminders of our time apart were becoming less and less frequent, so when I was reminded of it, it was difficult to imagine it as us; that was someone else, right? No. That was him, and that was me. I'd made that first initial contact solely to wish him well - a gesture for myself more than anything - because I'd imagined my flowers would get lost in a sea of other well-wishers. I felt a sadness wash over me for a moment, safe in the comfort of hindsight to judge past-Layla for not mending things with Harry sooner because things were so wonderful in the present. But, of course, I knew that neither one of us had been ready, then, and that things had happened when they were meant to.

And then, I felt a warm glow of happiness. Lifting my head to glance around the room I was standing in, looking at the home which was now Harry's and mine, and feeling the weight of our baby inside of me who was ready to make an appearance at any moment - I wished I could go and tell the past-me who'd been unable to get past the opening line of _'Sign of the Times'_ , that everything was going to be okay. Better than okay, everything would be more incredible than she could ever have hoped for.


	47. Rhiannon

I didn't recognise her when she first appeared. I saw Paula, alive, in the house I'd recently vacated, outside of the usual descent into a nightmarish memory of a flat in Liverpool, and it took my subconscious a moment to register that it was her and not Bianca.

She didn't say anything, never moved, just watched as I rushed to pack things into a box only to find that it was empty when I went to put more in. I felt like I had so much I still needed to do before the baby arrived, that I was panicking I wouldn't get everything done. Anxiety was swelling in my chest as I struggled to keep the box filled under the watchful eye of my mother - slowly pulling me from my dream, and, as slumber slipped from my grasp, I turned to get one last look at her. She was smiling - her makeup lined lips wide, revealing her teeth - but her attention had moved from me and was instead on the newborn baby she cradled in her arms. I wondered in a half-awake thought that maybe it was me or Bianca, and then something in my gut told me she was holding my baby.

Eyes flying open, my heart was racing and my whole body was rigid with terror. I reached through the dark to touch Harry's sleeping body next to me, needing to grasp onto something real so that I could ground myself back into reality.

Sitting up and reaching for my glass of water on the bedside table, I was relieved to get a jab against my ribs. I should have felt happy to see my mother, and I wished I felt nothing but warmth and love from seeing her in a setting that wasn't so horrific, but I didn't. Her wide, unmoving grin had sent a chill down my spine, and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling sitting in my chest.

Paula appearing in my dream should have been a comfort as I neared my own journey into motherhood, but it hadn't, it had seemed like a warning.

**\---**

Harry had been wonderful throughout the pregnancy, and I couldn't have asked for more, but as my due date - and birthday - approached, he became even more attentive. Normally I would have found it a little suffocating to have him following me around everywhere, asking if I was okay every time I reacted to a particularly painful kick in the ribs from our now downward-facing child, or repeatedly asking if I'd put everything I needed in my hospital bag - but I didn't. In fact, I found it endearing and sweet.

Did I use it to my advantage? Absolutely.

"Baaaby?" I said, sweetly, as he came into the living room with a coffee in hand. When I held aloft the bottle of nail polish I'd just been using on my hands, then pointed at my toes, he playfully rolled his eyes. "Please? I love you so much. Have I ever mentioned that?"

Feigning annoyance, Harry set his cup down on a coaster on the floor and sighed, "Fine. But if they're messy you can't tell me off."

"Would I?"

I watched as he grabbed the footstool and brought it over to where I was sitting on the sofa. Sitting down on it, he then patted his lap for me to rest my foot on it, and extended a hand so I could pass him the bottle of pink nail polish.

"You're lucky I love you," he grinned as he unscrewed the lid.

Waiting for him to make the first brush on my big toe, then said, "I'm very lucky you love me. But _you're_ lucky I'm about to give birth to your baby."

"Touche, James." Flashing me another quick smile, we fell into a comfortable silence as his expression turned serious while he concentrated on doing a neat and tidy job. After finishing the first foot, feeling confident enough to multi-task, he asked, "How are you feeling now?"

I stroked a hand over my belly and considered my answer. I'd woken up with an uncomfortable ache in my lower back, and period-like cramps, but while I put it down to Braxton Hicks, Harry was all ready to bundle me in the car and whisk me off to hospital. It had taken me calling my midwife, Lolly, to convince him that I was not moments away from giving birth and still had a couple of weeks to go. So, while things were getting closer to being on the move, I had to be careful not to get my beloved too excited over nothing.

"There's been a few twinges every so often, and there's been a bit of wriggling, but I feel fine. Nothing to worry about." Harry remained sceptical; humming dubiously before gently blowing cool air over my toes to help dry the first coat of polish. Wiggling my toes as I assessed his handiwork, I thanked him and told him, "You're getting good at this now, baby."

Beaming with pride, he set the nail polish bottle down, slid off the footstool, and got onto his knees. He then parted my legs just enough for him to settle between them, before lifting the hem of my shirt and pushing it up so my belly was completely on show. It had dropped a little, but it still seemed enormous, and yet, Harry seemed to be completely enamoured with my pregnant state.

"I can't wait to meet our little one, but I'm going to miss you like this," he mumbled, placing his hands on either side of my bump and softly dotting kisses over the peak of it.

I touched the top of his head, and stroked his hair back off his face as I chuckled, "Barefoot and pregnant?"

"No! Well... maybe-" Harry giggled when I lightly slapped his arm. "You know what I mean; carrying our baby. You're always beautiful, but every time I look at you it takes my breath away."

Moving my hand to meet his, our fingers linked together, and we exchanged a soft and loving smile. Because of the age difference, and us not quite being at the same stage in our lives, I did worry that perhaps once the reality of me being pregnant hit him, he'd freak out and try to backtrack, (and, of course, I was still aware that once the baby arrived he could still have that moment), but if he was feeling any doubts, he was doing an excellent job concealing it.

"I'm going to miss it, too, I've grown quite fond of my bump. I will not miss the heartburn or the constant need to pee, however." Shifting in my seat to get a little more comfortable, I sought some reassurance. "You're excited for her to come, though, yeah?"

Harry lifted his head to look up at me, his brow furrowed slightly. "Of course! Why do you think I keep leaping into action every time I think you're going into labour?"

"Because you have a music video to make, and a movie to film?" I teased.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head; not even dignifying my joke with a response other than to mumble, "Layla."

"I'm joking. I just want to know that you're excited that a real-life baby is about to come and turn our lives upside down - night feeds, dirty nappies, childproofing, all your clothes covered in baby sick. Potty training!"

"It's a bit bloody late now if I'm not excited!"

"Tell that to my father," I deadpanned, before laughing, "Seriously, are you?"

"Lil, baby, of course I am. I told you when we first got back together that I wanted you to be the mother of my children; I meant it then, and I mean it now. I honestly can't wait for us to do all of those delightful things together, as a team. You and me, raising our fleet of children and watching them grow up into their own people with personalities." Softly, he kissed my tummy again. "I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else but you."

Sitting up as far as I could, I cupped his face in my hands and was grateful that he leant up to meet me halfway, so I could kiss him. I mumbled against his soft lips, "Fleet? I don't think so."

**-**

Not for the first time, I dreamt I was in labour, and giving birth in the room I'd been born in at my grandparents' house. The room was as dusty and lifeless as it had been the first time I'd visited with Harry, and even though he was by my side, I felt thoroughly alone. I cried to him as I pushed; telling him that I was going to be a terrible mother, that I was going to end up like Paula, and although he reassured me, I just couldn't stop the tears as the pain of a painfully realistic contraction brought me closer to motherhood.

Then, there she was - Paula, standing at the bottom of the bed, smiling and cradling a baby in her arms. I wanted to pull the newborn from her arms, but I was too focused on the intensifying pain which seemed intent on distracting me from my dream. Even when it started to subside, I was steadily becoming aware of the possibility it hadn't been a figment of my imagination.

Once again, as I had in every other dream she'd appeared in whilst I was pregnant, I sought to keep my attention on Paula. Because, even though I was terrified that her presence was something sinister, I still liked seeing her outside of the nightmare I'd been haunted by. Her smile was no longer manic or eerie as she stared at the baby she held, it had become soft and warm, and she quietly sang to it as her body swayed in a rocking rhythm. For all the panic I'd felt when I first saw her in my dreams, there was a growing need to reach out and ask for her to comfort me that way.

Sleep was fading, and coherent thoughts were beginning to form; the pain I was feeling wasn't in my head, it was because the baby I had wanted for so long was on its way.

The dream faded quickly as I became aware of how tense I was holding my body, but Paula's smiling face remained front and centre in my mind's eye as the rest of my body caught up with my wide-awake brain. I was at home with Harry, in a house I'd once avoided, but now felt like the safest place on earth. As I lay and thought about opening my eyes, and wondered if I should wake Harry right away or wait to be sure that I was having genuine contractions, I heard a voice as clear as if she'd been in the room with me: Paula. "You're alright, flower. Everything's going to be fine."

Opening my eyes, I half expected to see my mother's face next to the bed - looming over me like Jacob Marley - but there was nothing but pitch black.

In my groggy state, and putting the voice down to still being less awake than I'd imagined, I sat up and planted my feet on the floor. My toes sank into the carpet as I tried to work out if the pain I'd been feeling in my dream had been real, or if I was dreaming about having Braxton Hicks now, too? Tapping the screen of my phone, I noted what time it was so I could keep track of how long the gap was between each contraction. I was trying not to panic, all too aware that I still had a fortnight until my due date, but as I sat in the dark in the middle of the night, thinking about what I'd heard dream-Paula say, and mentally running over if I'd packed everything in my hospital bag, I couldn't help but feel like perhaps the time had come. I'd reached the final, highest peak of the rollercoaster, and there was no other choice but to head down the drop - panicking would only make everything worse.

I got out of bed and noted - typically - that for the first time in weeks, Harry had not stirred to ask if I was okay. Heading into the en-suite, I calmly readied myself for the possibility of having to head to the hospital. I brushed my teeth and turned on the shower, then as I stepped under the water, I felt the stirrings of what was undeniably a contraction.

It was the worst one I'd experienced, one which caused me to pause and steady myself against the cold, wet tiles. Waiting for it to pass, I had the quickest of showers, then, after wrapping myself in a towel, I headed back into the bedroom.

"Harry?" I said, quietly, gently shaking his arm to wake him. "Baby?"

"Hmm?" he responded; voice groggy and still thick with sleep.

"There's nothing to panic about --" Harry lifted his head up off the pillow -- "but I think I'm in labour."

There was a moment's pause before he moved to turn his lamp on. Squinting against the light, he asked, "Are you sure?" I nodded my head and, with a look of panic on his face, he was up and out of bed in a flash. Standing face to face, I reached out with both hands to grasp onto his forearms. Without needing to say a word, he kissed my forehead. "But you still have weeks? What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to call the hospital, so can you get the clothes I've left out in the wardrobe for me?"

"Of course."

Harry disappeared to do as I asked, while I sent a text to Molly and called the hospital. When he came back I told him, "They said I can come in whenever. It might still be a false alarm, but it's better that I'm there. Just in case."

"Do you want to go now?" he asked, setting my clothes and shoes next to me on the bed.

"Yeah. Just to be on the safe side." Anxiety bubbled up to almost spilling point. "It could all still go wrong."

Harry frowned, "Lil, don't think like that. Everything's going to be okay."

I managed to get dressed before another contraction started, one that was even more intense than the last. Standing up, I planted my palms on the bed and started to do my breathing exercises; surprised when they did, in fact, alleviate the pain. However, there was no way on earth I was going to go through the experience of giving birth without any pain assistance.

Fear was starting to rise in my chest as I realised I was only just at the beginning, and that the stage I was at could go on for hours. For a moment, I started to question if I was strong enough and capable of doing what I was about to, but then, as I thought to myself that I wished my mother was with me, I remembered her words as I'd been waking up from my dream: _'You're alright, flower. Everything's going to be fine.'_ Nobody but her had ever called me flower, and I'd almost forgotten she'd used it as a term of affection for me whenever I was upset, but even though it was all in my head, it brought me an immeasurable amount of comfort.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked when he realised I was in pain.

"Rub my back, baby, please?" The touch of his palm was warm and soothing against my skin as it slipped under my t-shirt, and he sweetly whispered soothing words of encouragement. When the worst of the agony subsided, I turned to smile up at him. Tearful with fear, excitement, and - oddly - happiness, I could see he was feeling those things, too, but was trying desperately to hide it from me. I confessed: "I'm fucking terrified."

Harry laughed out loud, exhaling as he leant down to gently kiss my shoulder. "Me, too."

"This is going to hurt like fuck, and I'm sorry in advance for the horrible things I might say about hating you and you never being allowed to touch me ever again - it won't be me, it'll be the drugs and the pain talking." Standing up and believing I was capable of making the distance to the car, I held both his hands and sought to comfort him - almost everybody I knew had reassured me about going through labour, but I wasn't sure if he'd had the same. (Rose had told me it was up there as one of the worst things she'd ever had to witness, watching Dee give birth and not being able to do anything to ease her pain.) "But it's going to be okay. Lots of pain, and probably a lot of crying and swearing, but it's going to be worth it."

Harry nodded his head, then quickly swept away tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I know. It's just that I hate seeing you hurting so much, already."

"Listen, I'm going to get to the hospital, I'm going to get some lovely drugs that will make it all bearable, and then when our little sunflower is here, we'll forget it all." Nodding his head again, he took a deep breath, put his shoulders back, and looked ready for anything. "Okay, Styles, let's go have ourselves a baby."

**\---**

Ten fingers, ten toes, and lips that were the colour of strawberry ice cream as they sat in a perfect pout. After being in labour for a further twelve hours following our arrival at the hospital, mine and Harry's daughter hadn't had an easy entrance into the world, but she'd definitely made a loud one.

Arms flailing as the midwives quickly cleaned her off and checked that everything was okay, she let out a loud cry of displeasure at having been served her eviction notice early. But then, when they placed her on my bare chest, and I could see her little pink face for the first time, she fell silent. Gazing up at me with eyes that were swollen and out of focus as I gently shushed her, she seemed to have an expression on her face which said, 'Oh, there you are, I know that voice." She was a little on the small side, but not by much - she was absolutely perfect. I'd never known a rush of love like it.

"Hello, flower," I said, taking one of her tiny hands in mine. "I'm your mummy-" looking up at Harry with a smile from ear to ear, I saw that he was crying, too- "and this is your daddy."

_Rhiannon Eve Styles._


	48. Sober

** Harry **

Watching Layla give birth was one of the hardest but most incredible things I'd ever experienced. I could only hold her hand and give her words of encouragement through every contraction, and watch in awe of how amazing and strong she was despite being thoroughly exhausted and in pain. And just when I didn't think I could love her any more; pink, wriggling, and screaming the place down, our daughter came into the world and our lives were changed forever. Layla and I would always be linked by her, by our Rhiannon, and by the overwhelming, unconditional love we felt for her.

Both of us held our breaths while they made sure the baby was alright due to her slightly early arrival, then we cried openly as she was placed in Layla's arms and we set eyes on her for the first time.

"Hello, flower," Layla had said, taking a tiny hand in hers. "I'm your mummy," she then looked up at me with a beaming, watery smile, "and this is your daddy."

I loved them both so much that it almost knocked me off my feet.

**-**

I was only allowed to stay with Layla for a short while after Rhiannon was born; I'd been lucky enough to be allowed in the delivery room, but because of restrictions, and despite her being in a private room, I had to leave her and my daughter and go back home.

"You can go and get some sleep, you look shattered," Layla smiled after I complained about going back to an empty house. "Or, if you don't want to go home just yet, you can go and tell Will the good news."

"Ugh!" I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself, and was met with a stern look from the woman who'd spent just over fourteen hours in labour and was in no mood for my pettiness when it came to her ex-husband. "Sorry. But do I have to? Hasn't Rose already told him?"

Layla shrugged her shoulders, and I realised her request had a purpose. "Nope! You're the only one who can do it."

"Can I just text or call him?"

"Nope."

"You're totally taking advantage of the fact I would give you anything right now, huh?"

"Yep! And I still have plenty of mileage on it. Harry," she said, reaching for my hand and linking our fingers together, "please? For me? I understand why you're upset with him, but don't you think it's time to forget it?"

Sighing heavily, I admitted defeat and conceded. How could I argue with her after what she had done? She had just brought our daughter into the world and given me the gift of fatherhood, and all she asked in return was for me to go and make amends with the man she'd once been married to - who was likely to be in our lives forever.

I didn't want to do it, and the idea of sitting with him made my blood boil with envy, but it was what Layla wanted. So, with a forced smile that she could see right through, I told her, "Sure, baby, I'll go tell him."

**\---**

I sat in the car outside of Will's house for a long time. Seeing the grand, white townhouse with the black metal gate outside brought back so many memories of how my relationship with Layla had first been. I was nineteen, in the midst of a crazy, chaotic rollercoaster with the band, and I was besotted and falling in love - although I denied that fact for so long - with the married woman I was having an affair with. Seven years later, that woman had just had my baby, and I had come to tell the man she'd been married to about said baby.

Taking a steadying breath as I finally got out of the car, I marvelled at how things had turned out. 

The surprise was visible on Will's face when he opened the door and saw me on his doorstep - eyes widening and checking to see if Layla was with me. After a few seconds, and realising I was alone, his handsome face split into a wide, welcoming - but nervous - smile. (He was always friendly; always eager to make an effort with me, but I still struggled to get the picture of him kissing Layla after Terry's funeral out of my head whenever he was around. I was cordial and liked to think that to anyone else it seemed like I had no issue with him, but he and his ex-wife knew better.)

"Harry! What a lovely surprise, come in, come in!" Stepping aside, he ushered me into the house with his hand. His smile suddenly dropped as he asked, "Is everything okay? Is Layla alright? Rose told me she was in labour and I haven't heard anything since."

"I'm sorry to just drop in, but I..." The look of genuine concern on Will's face was almost enough to break my heart. It was hard to believe this was the same guy who'd insulted his ex-wife at every opportunity when they were married; who had mimicked her and rolled his eyes when he was on the phone to her, who abandoned her at parties. "Will, everything's fine. Better than that, actually. Lil didn't want you to find out through a text, but she had the baby this afternoon. A girl - Rhiannon Eve."

I realised I was grinning from ear to ear, and I wished I'd refused to leave the hospital. Will grabbed for my hand to shake it as he reflected my grin.

"Oh, thank god! That's wonderful news! I am so, so happy for you both, Harry." Lightly patting me on the shoulder with his free hand, he asked, "And they're both doing well? I was confused when Rose called, I didn't think she was due for a couple of weeks."

"They're both completely perfect." Taking my phone out of my pocket, I showed him a picture of my newborn daughter - asleep and freshly bathed, wearing a pale yellow baby grow which was too big for her, despite being for newborns. Will quietly gasped as he took the phone from me and peered at the picture closely, a soft expression on his face that had me wondering if he was thinking of what could have been in another life. If he'd treated her the way he did now, then maybe Layla would never have looked at me twice. "We were worried because she was early, and there was a scary moment because the baby had the cord around her neck, but they said everything's fine. I just left them so Lil can get some rest."

"I bet you're exhausted, too, eh?"

Chuckling, I shook my head, "I know I should get all the sleep while I can, but I'm too wired. It's like I've just come off stage, but ten times over."

"Well, stay and have a drink with me, then," he said, handing my phone back. "We can wet the baby's head."

I hesitated. Sharing the good news with him was one thing, but sitting in the house he'd once shared as a marital home with my girlfriend was another entirely. I'd been there a few times since Layla and I had been together openly, and it didn't even feel like it was the same place anymore, but it was. I also didn't want to drink and be too over the limit to drive, especially when I was already working on so little sleep and wanted to get back to the hospital as early as possible.

Noticing my hesitation, Will's enthusiasm dimmed a little. "Of course, you don't have to, I'll understand why you'd rather not do that with me. I'm probably the last person you'd want to celebrate with."

We stood in silence for a moment, avoiding each other's eye. The television was on quietly, and his dog, Cariad, was asleep in her spot on what had been Terry's armchair. Spotting the half-empty bottle of red wine and an empty glass on the coffee table, I softened. Will was happy enough; he had his dog, his business, lots of friends, and Layla had hinted he even had a new boyfriend, but he'd lost a lot, too.

"No, I'd like that. I can only stay for a small one, though - I should get home and sleep a little."

"Of course!" Will warmly, leading me into the living room and gesturing for me to sit down. As he rushed over to what I knew to be the drinks cabinet, I fussed over Cariad - who had left her spot to come over for attention. "I actually have a bottle of something I was going to give you as a congratulations gift. I don't know if you drink it, but it's a tradition in my family that new fathers get a bottle of whisky, and this one seemed apt."

Retrieving a tall gift bag from inside the cabinet, he came and handed it to me. I politely thanked him and pulled out the black tube that contained a bottle of Welsh whisky, by a company called Penderyn. The name _'Rhiannon'_ was written in white across the label, and underneath was a black and white illustration of a woman with wild hair riding a horse under the moonlight.

"This is great," I smiled, genuinely touched despite my subdued response. Why did he have to be so likeable when he wasn't trying so hard to impress? "Do you want to open it?"

"It's up to you! If you want to save it, I have a bottle of Macallan saved for special occasions."

"No, no, I think it's the perfect time to open it. When she's older, we can tell her about how me and her Uncle Will drank some on the night she was born."

Will put a hand to his cheek and shook his head in disbelief, "Christ! You're going to make me cry talking like that, Harry. I was always disappointed I didn't have siblings because I wouldn't have nephews and nieces, but now I have a beautiful nephew and niece."

As he disappeared to get glasses and ice, I read the back of the label before pulling out the bottle and undoing the lid. I felt my phone buzz against my thigh.

**Lil**

_Don't get too drunk, you need to sleep x_

_Thank you for going to tell him, I love you x_

**Harry**

_One drink, then home. I'll be there first thing. I love you too x_

Will reappeared, and after he set down two tumblers on the coffee table - each with three cubes of ice - I poured us both a drink. Clinking his glass against mine, he said, "To Rhiannon Eve Styles, may she be as strong and patient as her mother, and kind and generous like her father."

"To Rhiannon Eve."

I imagined I was supposed to mull over the different flavours and aromas, but the butterflies in my tummy that awoke violently every time I realised I was an actual _father_ had me sink the liquid in a flash; not even pausing when the cold ice clashed against my teeth.

Thankfully, Will didn't question me, simply inquired, "So, why Eve? I have been nagging Layla to watch 'Killing Eve' for ages."

Quelling the voice in my head which questioned if Will had a hand in my daughter's whole name, I shrugged and watched the glossy, clear cubes start to melt in the warmth of my grip around the crystal glass. "We just like the sound of it. We'd spent so long trying to come up with a name we both liked and which meant something to us that I even suggested we didn't give her a middle name."

"Which I can imagine she was thrilled about."

"Not so much. Anyway, she just started listing names on a website, and that's one we both liked."

"It's beautiful, and rolls off the tongue." Leaning across the table and offering to pour me another drink, he smiled softly when I accepted, "Terry bought this. The distillery has a collection in tribute to Welsh icons. Ever the proud Welshman, he bought them all, but this one was obviously special because of his mother."

"Are you sure you don't want to keep it?"

"No, not at all. I want you to have it, and he would want you to have it, too." Shaking his head sadly, his eyes looked glassy in the low light, and for a moment he was elsewhere. For all the dislike I held for him, the fact he'd lost the love of his life so early was a tragedy I could never have wished on him. Suddenly he was back in the room, and his gaze focused back on me, "Terry adored both you and Layla, and I'm sad he's not around to watch you become parents."

"Well, with all the people I've lost, I like to think they are around," I smiled, experiencing my own regret that so many people I loved wouldn't get to share the happiest moment of my life so far, and that Rhiannon wouldn't get to have them in her life.

"Of course!" he said, although I wasn't entirely sure he did agree. "So, I bet your mum's over the moon."

I thought of the call I'd made to Mum to tell her we were at the hospital, and how excited and delighted she'd sounded. When I'd called her again afterwards - still in shock from having not only witnessed a life come into the world but it also being a life I'd helped create - I'd told her she was a grandmother and she'd cried with happiness.

"I had to stop her from jumping in the car and driving down!" Laughing, I took a small sip of my whisky, careful not to give in to the want to polish it off in one go this time and to actually savour it. "I would have loved for her to come down immediately, but she wants to get tested beforehand, so as long as Lil's feeling up to it, we'll go up and spend some time there for a while."

"This whole situation is a nightmare, but getting out of London and out into the country will be lovely for you all. When are they being let out? Will they have to stay longer with her being premature?"

"Tomorrow afternoon at the latest, hopefully, as long as everything's okay overnight."

Will nodded, thoughtfully, "I will leave you all to get settled, then I'll come and meet the little one in a few days... if that's alright with you?"

There was a petty part of me that wanted to say no, to tell him that he wasn't welcome in the home I shared with Layla, but I couldn't find the heart to do it. "Of course it is."

**-**

One drink turned into several, and gradually the polite chit-chat turned deeper. Habit told me that I shouldn't feel comfortable around him, but the whisky - switching to another one so that the _'Rhiannon'_ bottle remained virtually full - and darkness falling made it easier.

I couldn't deny that Will had changed from the guy I'd first met, and he was far easier to get along with since he'd dropped the laddish bravado, but I always felt uncomfortable in his presence. How could I not? I couldn't forget the way he'd talked about Layla, the way he'd treated her, him being the catalyst for her not speaking to me for nigh on four years, and... There had been a point when I'd been able to move on from those things; laying them to rest when he'd agreed to help me see her again, and having him batting hard in my corner when it came to convincing Rose I was ready to give Layla everything she wanted. But then he'd kissed her after Terry's funeral, and the image of his lips on hers haunted me.

After all of that, I was so certain he was responsible for mine and Layla's relationship going public because it was entirely something he was capable of! It had taken Jeff showing me proof that it had been Vicky and Mia who'd gone to the press for me to finally believe Will was innocent. By that point, however, I couldn't find it in myself to forgive him; all too aware that it wouldn't be long before he did something else to make me question him. I was polite, but I didn't want to be his friend.

His relationship - friendship, whatever - with Layla stirred an obscene amount of jealousy in me. They were close, and she was determined he was going to be a part of her life. I couldn't understand it, and Rose had quietly confided in me that sometimes she couldn't either (especially when none of us knew who had leaked those pictures), but it's what Layla wanted, so I had to accept it. The problem was, it was becoming exhausting to dance around him; being polite but burning with envy when they shared a private joke or a moment of affection. I went from hating him for not loving her the way she should have been, to hating him because I was worried he loved her too much.

Running a hand through my hair, I bounced my knee and asked him, "I always wanted to know how you could have treated her the way you did?"

Will was rightfully taken aback by my sudden change of subject, swallowing hard before leaning to refill his glass. For a moment he didn't reply, chewing on his answer and glancing at a photo of Layla, Terry, and him on his wedding day to Terry. Seeing her face made my chest ache, and, once again, I longed to be with her and the baby.

Finally, Will cleared his throat. "I don't know. I look back now and I despise myself. In truth, I despised myself at the time, but I couldn't seem to stop." Exhaling heavily, he looked at me. "It's hard to feel trapped - to know what you want but feeling too scared to make it happen. The people you love are easy to lash out at because there's a part of you that wants them to recognise your truth. I was terrified of Layla finding out about Terry and me, but I also wanted nothing more than for her to know so I could stop lying to her."

"But you were so cruel. And not just when she was around. The stuff you used to say around me and the lads." Remembering him telling Niall and me not to get married young, 'even if she's great in bed', I shuddered and had to quell the sudden desire to punch him in the face.

"I know. I won't make any excuses for it, because there aren't any." He sat back in his chair, his body slumping slightly as he no doubt remembered things he'd said or done. There was a long moment of silence - except for the occasional huff or grunt from Cariad who'd curled up at my feet - then Will spoke again. "Harry, I think we both know what it's like to regret the way we've treated her. I'm going to regret it for eternity, but it didn't come from a place of malintent. I genuinely did fall in love with her, and I wanted to marry her. I thought it would paper over - and heal - the heartache of not getting to be with Terry, but I obviously know now that was stupid. Just like she thought that being with me would cancel out everything she'd been through. "

Nothing he'd said lessened my anger for how he'd behaved, but there was a part of me that knew what it felt like to have to hide parts of yourself. Would I have lashed out at others because of it? No. But then, from what Layla had told me, I didn't have the kind of mother Will had. Anne had shown me how to be gentle and patient, but it seemed to me that Verity had been barbed tongued and often lashed out, herself. And of course, he was right: I knew exactly how it felt to cause Layla unspeakable pain and regret it constantly.

"Layla wants us to be friends," I said, quietly.

"She does. And it's what I'd like, too." Quickly, he added, "But I know you've never fully forgiven me for trying to kiss her-"

I was quick to correct him. "You didn't try, Will, you _did_ kiss her."

"Okay, yes. I know you've never forgiven me for kissing her after the funeral, and I'm sure you know it honestly was just a stupid, drunken mistake made out of grief, but I also understand that it can't have been pleasant to see."

I scoffed into my glass, sitting back on the sofa. Unpleasant was an understatement. No matter the reason, he'd still believed he had the right to kiss her; that in some way her being his ex-wife was a kind of loophole.

"Why did you help me get her back if you still had feelings for her?" It was a trick question - he seemed just about honest and drunk enough to confess that maybe he had been harbouring a secret love for Layla.

But, instead, Will shook his head adamantly. "Harry, I don't have feelings for Lil. Certainly not in that way, anyhow! I kissed her because I was depressed, lonely, and drunk. I missed - still do - my husband, my soulmate, and she was familiar. It wasn't because I was in love with her or wanted to be with her. It was a mistake, a big mistake, and I'm sorry." He placed a heavy emphasis on his words of apology, looking me in the eye as he said them. Pausing for a beat, he then continued, "I helped you because I wanted her to be happy. She made such a big deal about avoiding you in any way possible that it was like she was screaming out how much she loved and missed you - I knew what that was like. I'm not in love with Layla, but even if I was, it's you she wants, and it always has been."

Tiredness and alcohol were beginning to kick in, and I felt my throat constrict as emotion swept through me. Tears pricked my eyes, and I turned my head away from him. Layla could be blind when it came to Will - she saw a goodness in him that I often struggled to comprehend - so despite her constantly teasing about how she didn't trust him, she didn't ever want to believe his intentions were malicious. But, somehow, hearing all of that directly from his mouth, seemed to feel different.

I'd become convinced Will's involvement in mine and Layla's reconciliation had - as I'd originally suspected - simply been a way to play with our emotions. I imagined that he'd hoped we'd fight just like we had, but hadn't counted on us actually working out. Every time I'd recalled him telling me Joel was Layla's boyfriend, my memories had become warped enough to picture his face looking devilish with glee - complete with horns, a tail and folk - as he'd said the words; delighted to witness my heart breaking before his very eyes. But maybe I'd been wrong, and maybe Layla was right.

She was going to love hearing me say that.

Will was watching me when I turned my head back around to look at him. His face was set in a small, hopeful smile, seemingly hopeful he'd finally managed to make things right between us. I would probably never get the image of him kissing her out of my head, and not only on the night of the funeral but all the other times I'd had to see him with her when they were married, too. However, maybe it was time I got over my grudge and truly learned how to welcome him like Layla wanted me to.

Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, I noticed it was almost half-twelve, and groaned, "Oh shit, it's really late. I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours."

"Time flies when you're having a heart-to-heart with your girlfriend's ex-husband," Will grinned, unperturbed by the late hour and pouring himself another glass. As the almost empty bottle hovered over my fully empty glass, he said, "You're already over the limit, so you might as well stay here for the night. I have plenty of room."

Under normal circumstances, I'd have refused and called a cab, but I liked the idea of not having to go home to an empty house. And I was celebrating! A baby! Layla and I had just had a baby. There was a new human being in the world, and she was half Layla and half me!

Sitting up and shifting forward to the edge of the seat, I signalled for him to pour. Once both of our glasses were filled, I raised mine in a toast: "To Layla!"

"And how! To Layla!" Will clinked his glass against mine, and we drank to the woman we both loved; to the woman who forgave us and gave us second chances when we worthy of one, to the woman whose strength and determination knew no bounds. That would always be the one thing he and I agreed on. "She'd bloody love this."

Nodding, I chuckled, "She would. She won't believe me when I tell her."

"Did you want another drink after this, or do you want to go get some sleep?" Will asked, getting up and unsteadily heading to his drinks cabinet. "You're a tequila drinker usually, right?"

"Yeah. But maybe I need to switch to water, I don't want to go back to the hospital over the limit, or with a hangover."

"I'm sure if you tell Lil we were putting the world to rights, she'll go easy on you."

"Maybe. But, I'm a dad now, I suppose I have to be a responsible grown-up!" Shaking my head, I almost accepted the offer of tequila. "Shit, I'm a dad."

"And you'll make a fine one, I bet." He grinned at me, "And will you be making a fine husband, too, anytime soon?"

"When she tells me she's ready, and when the world's a little more back to normal, then definitely." Hoping not to upset him, I asked, "Do you think you'll ever have kids? I know Archie's yours, but I mean one of your own."

"I'd love to! One of the reasons I offered to help Dee and Rose was because I have this - for lack of a better word - legacy to pass on. If I don't have an heir of my own, then who better than the child of two of my best friends?" Will's face broke into a huge smile, which lit up his whole being. "I'm immensely proud of Alfie."

"And the girls seem to think you're secretly seeing someone."

Cheeks suddenly reddening, I doubted his blushes were from the drink. "I guess I have myself to blame for them sticking their beaks in my business! It's still very early days, and it's something that's slowly been developing, but... Dee's friend, Tommy, and I have been... We're seeing how things go."

"Will, that's great! I've only met him a few times, but he seems like a good guy."

His smile was wide and a little bashful - like he was trying to hide that he was fully in the throes of love. "He's extraordinarily wonderful. I haven't felt this way in a long time, and I thought I never would again. I thought my heart was broken forever after Terry died, and I know it'll never fully heal, but Tom's made the pain easier to bear."

**-**

Will showed me upstairs, to what he still called 'Layla's room'. It hadn't changed much since I'd last been in there, and it only made me miss her more. I'd realised I was in love with her in that room, tangled in the bedsheets, afraid to say anything because I was convinced I'd tell her how I felt as we kept our eyes locked. It was where we'd both known we weren't simply sleeping together; that we didn't solely get along and have great chemistry.

"So, let me know if you need anything," Will said when I stayed silent and just stared at the bed.

"Thanks." Blinking away memories of how Lil and I had begun, I turned to Will. "And thanks for tonight. Hopefully, you won't feel too much like shit in work tomorrow."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I'll just hide away in the office and take a nap if I need to," he chuckled. "And thank you for coming to tell me. I'd have been happy with a text or a phone call, but I'm glad you came, and that we could finally sort things out between us."

"Me too."

I was struck with a sudden need to hug him. He seemed a little wary as I opened my arms, his body tense for a second as I embraced him. It did seem oddly fitting that he - of all people - was who I celebrated the birth of mine and Layla's daughter with. I felt lighter for having let go of my resentment towards him, and I hoped he didn't give me cause to regret that. 


	49. Kooks

Harry came to pick Rhiannon and me from the hospital with a rotten hangover. At midday, he skulked into my room wearing a mask, but I could see the sheepish expression on his half-hidden face, and from his damp hair and the sleepiness in his eyes I knew he hadn't long woken up. (I'd also gotten a text from Will asking me never to let him drink with Harry ever again, and that he'd had to mute a Zoom meeting so he could puke into a wastepaper basket.)

"Long night, was it?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest in faux annoyance.

Pulling down his mask to kiss me, Harry grumbled, "A little. But you can blame your ex for that."

"I usually do. So, was everything alright?"

He was pretty cagey with the details of what he and Will had discussed, and he'd said that sleeping in my room at the top of the house had been surreal, but I could see it had already lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders by not having to hold onto a huge grudge any longer. They had both talked things through, gotten whatever they needed to off their chest, and, if polishing off a bottle of whisky between them to wet the baby's head was what it took, then I wasn't going to complain. Much.

**-**

We managed to leave the hospital and get home without any bother, and considering how he usually drove, Harry was a perfect driver; radio off, gripping the wheel with both hands at ten to two, and a look of pure concentration.

"I haven't been this stressed about driving since I started learning," he chuckled, nervously, once we were a safe distance closer to home.

I couldn't deny that his overcautiousness was adorable. I opened my mouth to tease him, but seeing as I had chosen to sit in the back seat instead of the front so I didn't have to be too far away from the baby - making Harry look like he was my chauffeur -, I didn't have much of a leg to stand on. "Please always drive like this when she's in the car."

There was an undeniable moment of joint panic when we got back to the house and took Rhiannon inside. Placing the car seat on the sofa, Harry and I stood side by side and stared at the tiny, sleeping person who was going to be relying on us completely for the foreseeable future. Hit by the reality of the situation, I reached for his hand and held it tight. We'd gotten her home, but what did we do now?

"Have you spoken to your mum?" I whispered, wishing that Anne or Carol were with us to tell us where to start.

Harry hummed that he had, then whispered back, "She said she has her test this afternoon, so as long as everything's negative, we can go up next week if you feel up to it?"

"That sounds wonderful. I'm sad she can't be one of the first people to meet her; it's her granddaughter." Turning my head to rest my chin on his shoulder, I could see his disappointment. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry she can't be here."

"Yeah, me too," he sighed, heavily, before I saw his eyes widen. "Uh oh!"

Looking in the direction of the baby as her hands stretched out and her head moved side to side, she then scrunched up her face, opened her mouth, and let out an almighty cry of displeasure. The noise spurred Harry and me into action - both of us rushing forward before he stepped back and let me take her out of the seat. The time for dithering about what we should do had passed, and the time to do what it took to soothe her cries had most definitely arrived.

**-**

As sad as I was that we couldn't have more than just video calls with Anne, Jeff and Glenne, and brief visits from Gemma, Rose and Dee, there was a tiny part of me which liked that it was just me and Harry for our daughter's first evening home. We gave her a bath (which she hated and spent the whole time crying; almost making me cry), then, after I got her ready for bed and fed her, Harry sent me to grab a much-needed shower while he rocked her to sleep. It was a simple gesture, but one that suggested he wasn't about to leave everything to me, and that he genuinely wanted us to be a team.

Stepping into the cubicle, everything ached, and my lower region felt battered and bruised - funnily enough, it felt like I'd just pushed something akin to a bowling ball through it. I was anxious about being in another room from my baby, and even though I doubted I'd get a full night's sleep, I longed for my bed. Yet, despite all of that, I couldn't remember ever feeling happier or more content.

When I came out of the bathroom, Harry was still sitting on the edge of the bed with Rhiannon. He had her head cradled in his right palm, and the length of her body running down the inside of his arm - holding her close enough to be secure but far enough to stare at her as she slept. As I quietly moved closer, I noticed that her dainty fingers were wrapped around the index finger of his left hand where it lay gently on her tummy. He gazed at her with such awe and wonderment; like she was the solution to every problem and question he'd ever had, like he'd never seen such a finer piece of art, and like he would move heaven and earth if she required it.

Gingerly sitting down next to him, he didn't react to my presence at first. I wasn't sure he'd even noticed I was there until he eventually said in a hushed voice, "I can't stop staring at her. I keep thinking I should put her in her cot, but then I just stay here, amazed that she's real."

"It's a whole new level of love for someone. It's staggering," I agreed, watching as he smiled and nodded. I wondered if he knew that I meant it was how I felt about him, too.

Suddenly, he tore his eyes away from her and turned his head to look at me. His gaze wandered over me as I sat with a towel wrapped around my body, damp hair, and a makeup-free face.

"I don't want to move in case I wake her, please move closer and kiss me," he whispered. "I love you so much, Lil, please kiss me."

Carefully, I did as he asked and moved closer to him. I put one hand on his bare knee, and the other on his back, and leant in so my chest was against his tattooed arm. Our lips hovered closely for a second before meeting, and Harry let out a quiet, muffled hum of relief as we kissed.

"Are you happy?" I asked him, pulling away just enough so I could look into his eyes.

"Baby, happy doesn't even begin to cover it. I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my life." His eyes glistened with tears, and I reached up to wipe them away. When he glanced back at the sleeping beauty in his arms, he once again sounded awestruck. "We made her."

Moving my hand to stroke the nape of his neck, I grinned, "We did."

"Everything I do will be for you both, I want you to know that." Before I could respond, he asked, "Are you okay? Are you happy?"

"I'm on cloud 9," I replied, before rubbing my stinging eyes and yawning behind my hand. "Although, I honestly need to sleep. I'm exhausted, and we haven't even started doing night feeds yet. I'm sure this silence won't last for long."

Harry nodded in agreement before getting up and taking a few careful steps over to where the grey and white Moses basket was on its stand. I could hear him holding his breath while he softly lay the baby down, then exhaling with relief when she stayed asleep.

I went to stand next to him, and as he placed a hand on my lower back, he whispered, "We need to come up with a nickname we like. Rhiannon's a bit of a mouthful. Will told me-"

"Oh, Will did, did he?" I teased, gently placing the blanket Anne had given us over the baby's lower half.

Glancing up at him, I caught him looking unimpressed at me picking up on his mentioning of his new best friend. Still, Harry continued, "He said that Terry's family called his mum Non."

"Yeah, apparently that's a name in itself. I don't hate it; it's different."

"Same." He chuckled, "And if Stan and Alfie are anything to go by, I'm sure you'll think of plenty of other nicknames."

I yawned again and made a mental note that we'd have to start introducing Stan to Rhiannon the following day. We'd kept him out of whichever room she was in, but he'd been listening with startled curiosity whenever he could hear her cry; his ears pointed forward, and his eyes wide as he sought to figure out what was making such a racket!

When Harry's arms circled my middle, I leant into him and mumbled against his warm chest, "Can we go to bed now?"

**\---**

The newly familiar sound of a crying baby woke me from my sleep. Glancing at my phone as I reluctantly sat up, half-asleep and groggy, a very small part of me died when I saw that it was a quarter past two - Rhiannon's favourite time to have her late-night feast at _Cafe de Layla's Boobs_.

Harry stirred beside me with a sharp inhale, but I whispered to him, "I'm up, go back to sleep."

Picking up my hungry daughter from her small cot next to the bed, I took her through to the nursery so I could sit with her and have the lamp on without waking Harry. I got us both settled, and as soon as she latched onto my breast, I was rewarded with heavenly silence.

There was no doubt that waking up several times in the night was truly exhausting, and it had only been a few days. But it all seemed to melt away as I watched her feed; hearing the soft little grunts, her eyes gazing up at me with increasing focus, and a tiny hand wrapped around my little finger. I loved her so much that I felt like my heart was going to burst right out of my chest.

"Hey." I heard a whisper from the doorway, and glanced up to see Harry quietly tread into the room - yawning before asking me, "You okay?"

Sleepily smiling at him, I nodded as he came to kiss the top of my head. I carefully moved my feet off of the footstool, and he sat down close enough so that our knees touched.

"You didn't have to get up, you know?" I said, quietly. "There's no point in us both losing sleep."

"I know, but I feel guilty about you getting up every time."

"Oh, don't worry, I have about a week of this left in me, and then you can take on some extra daddy-duties with a bottle."

Harry chuckled and leant his elbow on his knee, before resting his chin on his palm. We sat in relative silence, and as much as I felt guilty that he was sitting up with us instead of sleeping, I couldn't deny that it was nice to have him with Rhiannon and me.

In fact, he'd been wonderful since she'd arrived, and had been more than helpful when it came to taking care of the tiny whirlwind who'd come into our lives. My anxiety over him possibly shirking his fatherly responsibilities once his baby became a reality had quickly been quelled, and he'd had no problems with changing nappies or taking over so I could shower and take a quick nap. As it was, we were making a pretty awesome team.

Watching as he dropped his head down to one side to hide that he was yawning again, I waited for him to finish before saying, "I've been thinking: what do you think about us getting married? When the world's a bit more back to normal."

For a moment, Harry seemed stunned; silent, blinking at me, and trying to work out if I was being serious or if it was sleep deprivation talking. "Seriously?"

I paused for a moment as I switched the baby from one nipple to the other, then met his eye. "Yep. If you still want to?"

His face split into a wide grin as he stood to lean over and kiss me. "You know I do. But I wanted to ask you!"

Gently and quickly stroking his cheek before he sat back down, I found myself unable to stop mirroring his grin. "You still can. If you have a whole thing planned out for how you want to do it, then do it. This is just me letting you know that I'm ready. We live together, we have a baby, and we're in love - I'm ready to add being husband and wife to that list, too."

Still in disbelief, Harry asked again, "Hon _estly_?"

"Seriously and honestly. If you want to get married, or at least get engaged for a while, then that's what I want, too. I want you to be my husband."

Heart racing with genuine excitement, it struck me that I was more than ready. Moving in together had been the last hurdle I needed to conquer in terms of merging our lives and making a commitment. Marriage had long been something I'd been terrified of getting into again, but in the time following Rhiannon's arrival, the idea of being Harry's wife was something I truly wanted - and not just because I wanted to have the same surname as my daughter. I wanted it because he wanted it; because I couldn't imagine romantically loving anyone the way I did him, and because I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. 


	50. Days (ii)

"So, I might have sort-of proposed to Harry last night."

Coffee exploded from Rose's lips; her hands flailing before I quickly grabbed a nearby tea towel for her to wipe herself and Harry's kitchen table. Eyes agog in disbelief, she screeched, " _LAYLA_!"

Giggling, I shushed her and pointed towards the living room where Non and Alfie were napping. "You'll wake the babies!"

She clamped a hand over her mouth and paused to listen for a wee voice calling or a startled cry. It was truly wild to think that we weren't meeting to discuss the business, or just hanging out with a bottle of wine and good food, but as two mothers with a baby and a toddler, who needed things like naps. However, Rose had just proven that did not mean we had grown up.

When there was no sound, she returned her focus to me and hissed, "Fuck off! Are you kidding me!? You waited forty-five minutes to tell me that you got engaged!"

"I'm not engaged, mate. I just asked if he wanted to get married when things get back to normal."

Rose frowned, and her expression changed so that she looked like she was about to go hunt Harry down. "Did he say no?"

"No, no. He was a bit stunned at first - it was the middle of the night and he'd come to sit with me while I fed the baby - but once he knew I was being serious, he said he'd wanted to ask me, and I didn't want to take that away from him. However, now he knows that I'm ready to take that step."

"Aw!" To my surprise, tears welled in Rose's eyes, and she started to cry. She shook her head at her own silliness when I reached for her hand across the kitchen table, and said, "I'm just so happy for you. You deserve this happiness after everything you've been through, and, of course, marriage and babies doesn't necessarily mean a perfect life, but you have it with a person you love, and who loves you, too."

"I have a billion hormones racing around my body at the moment, mate, please stop or you're going to make _me_ cry."

"I know, I'm sorry," she sniffed, "but, I know what it's taken for you to get to this point, and what it means for you to feel ready to marry again. I do not doubt that you and Harry would have a wonderful life together, even if you never got married, but I know that deep down it's what you truly want. He's not always been the perfect guy, but I can't fault him since you guys decided to try again. He's kept his word about never hurting you again, and for what it's worth, I think you're right to take that next step with him."

"Does he finally have the Rose seal of approval?" I chuckled, carefully wiping tears from my eyes. 

To my relief, she replied with a tearful grin, "I suppose he does. I did say that he wouldn't fit with us properly until he sorted things out with Will, and from what I've heard, they managed to do that the other night."

"At long last! I haven't asked either of them too much about it because, in a way, it's none of my business, but they were great with each other when Will came to meet the baby last night. Like I said to Harry: they don't have to be best friends, but anything's better than him just pretending Will doesn't exist."

"Definitely. And listen, Harry had every right to kick off about Will kissing you, but it was an honest mistake, and it was two years ago! But anyway, he's swallowed his pride, and I'm ready to embrace the future Mr Layla James. He is the father of my niece, after all."

"He is. And he genuinely makes me happy. I woke up this morning- correction; your darling niece woke me up this morning, and I kept waiting for the doubts to kick in, y'know? I remembered what I'd said to him with one boob out, no makeup on, and greasy hair, and half-expected that after some sleep I'd regret it, but I didn't. I don't."

"Good! Let's be honest, it's no secret that I'm protective of you, Lil. We're sisters, we're soulmates, we are each other's ride or die. From the moment you told me about all the things you went through as a kid, I have taken on the role of being the person in your corner; unconditionally. After Will and Harry treated you the way they did, I wasn't going to let just anybody be with you, I wasn't going to let you get knocked up by just anybody, and I wouldn't let you walk up the aisle with anyone I didn't think was going to treat you like the fucking queen you are. I've kept Harry at arm's length up to a point, but I've seen the way he looks at you, how he is with you, and how he is with Non - he loves and adores you both. He's still young, but he knows that he doesn't want to ever live without you, and that overrides anything else. Harry, for all the bullshit mistakes he made in the past, has more than proved to me that I don't have to fight so hard in your corner anymore. I'm always going to bat for you, but I know that Harry's going to look after you, too."

Coming from anyone else, I would have bristled at the suggestion that I needed taking care of, however, as it was Rose, I wiped my tears and simply reassured her, "I don't need looking after. Not anymore, at least. But I hope you know how fucking glad I am to have you in my life."

"I do know, and I feel the same. I also know that you don't _really_ need anyone to take care of you, but I love you, and I want the best for you," she replied, rolling her pale blue eyes as a tear dropped to her freckled cheek. "Harry will always be on thin ice with me after what he did to you - I'm sorry, I'm never going to be able to completely forget it - but I have every faith he knows that I will kill him, with my bare hands, if he ever hurts you."

"He's still mildly terrified of you, so he knows."

"Splendid! Let's keep it that way." We exchanged grins, and she raised her mug of coffee to clink it against my mug of hot chocolate. "So, any idea how or when he's going to do it? Your birthday's coming."

I shook my head, "Not a clue. Christmas or New Year, maybe? Obviously, we're going to America next month, and before that we're going up to see Anne, and then he's going to do a video in Italy, which he wants me and Non to go with him, too, so... who knows? Hey, you might know before I do!"

Rose's eyes lit up with glee. "Oh yes! I hadn't even thought of that! Tell him I will be glad to help him in any way." She put her hands together in prayer and gazed up at the ceiling, "Please, Covid, bugger off so I can plan Layla's hen party!"

A hen party, for me, for my wedding to Harry - my cheeks reddened and my tummy somersaulted. "Will you tell me if he asks you about it?"

Glancing at my phone as a notification lit up the screen, I smiled when I saw it was from Harry telling me he was on his way home from a fitting for a photo shoot with _Vogue._

"Absolutely not, mate!" Rose scoffed loudly. "So, are you going to see Bianca when you go up North?"

"I'm hoping so! Liverpool's on the verge of a local lockdown, so I'm hoping we'll be able to before that happens. Things were still tense when we saw each other at Christmas, so it would be nice if after the nightmare year we've all had so far, that her and I could start over."

The argument my sister and I'd had when I visited Liverpool for the first time in well over a decade had unquestionably left a lasting mark on our relationship. I'd wanted us to be close, I had wanted us to have a genuine sisterly bond, but she was still struggling to forgive me for the choices I'd made as a traumatised fifteen-year-old. And then I had accused her of betraying Harry and me to the press. It had been a tough day, and the coldness that followed had been tough, too, but all I could do was give her time and try to keep some sort of communication with her. We messaged each other on birthdays and updated each other on our lives, and I tried to make the journey up to Liverpool whenever Harry and I went to Holmes Chapel - even if it was only for an hour or two.

"I hope so, too.

**\---**

Other than seeing Harry's face when he first held Rhiannon, nothing compared to Anne's reaction when her granddaughter was placed in her arms. Tears pooled in her eyes immediately, and there was such a wonderful expression of love on her face that I wished, even more, we could have brought her sooner.

"She's so beautiful," she beamed, before noticing the blanket she had given me. Running her thumb over the little embroidered ducks, she looked up at me. "You used it!"

Feeling quite emotional over the loveliness of Anne's reaction - quietly marvelling at how far she and I had come - I brushed away my tears and replied, "Of course. We brought her home in it like you did with Gemma and Harry, and she has it on her at night when it's not too hot."

"Oh, that's lovely." Tucking the blanket back under the baby so it was secure around her, Anne joked, "I wasn't sure if it was your taste and you were just being polite."

I laughed and shook my head. "No, no, I genuinely love it, and I'm touched that you trusted us to use it."

Harry went and sat next to his mum on the sofa, and I felt awash with love and contentment. I'd been so scared of becoming a mother - even though it was something I'd desperately wanted   
\- after Paula, Verity, and how things had begun with Anne. I was convinced that I would struggle with motherhood, but, despite being unable to accurately emphasise enough just how tired I felt, and having the odd day when nothing I did seemed to satisfy the needs of my daughter, I had found myself feeling more at home and happier than I ever had. It wasn't all sunshine and (pink) roses, but it was far more wonderful than I'd ever allowed myself to hope.

Once I'd dropped the resentment towards Paula, and once I'd realised her presence in my dreams wasn't always menacing, I'd allowed myself to embrace my new role as a mother. I began to drop the final guard I had around Harry's family and accept that Rhiannon and I were now a part of it, too.

**\---**

Although we planned to spend the day at the park, we arranged to meet Bianca, Elis, and Finn in Goostrey, in our grandparents' house. My relationship with my sister had come a long way, but it was nowhere near where I hoped it would be, and I was almost glad that Rhiannon was in a fussy mood - meaning I wasn't so focused on my nervousness.

They were already there when Harry and I arrived, and as I got the baby out of the car, I could hear Finn laughing as Elis chased him around the front garden. He had a beautiful mass of dark curls on his head, which bounced as he excitedly ran, and when Elis caught and swept him up, he let out the most adorable little squeal. I even detected the beginnings of a Liverpudlian accent when he giggled, "Daddy! Let me down!"

Harry pushed the gate open so I could wheel Non's pram up onto the path. My heart was racing with apprehension, but still, I gave a great big smile. "Hello!"

"Aunty Lala!" Finn wiggled himself free of Elis' hold and rushed up to hug my legs, before doing the same to Harry. Standing on tiptoes, his hazel eyes wide and trying to peer over the edge of the pram, he asked me, "Is that a baby?"

I already wanted to squish his little cheeks for being so adorable and for remembering who Harry and I were, but then he'd asked what was possibly the cutest question. "It is a baby; it's mine and Harry's baby."

"That's your baby cousin," Elis told him, lifting Finn up so he could see better. "Her name's Rhiannon. Can you say that?"

"Oh." The little boy frowned as he looked upwards as though he was trying to remember something, but instead of trying to pronounce the strange name, he asked, "Another one?"

"Yes," laughed Elis, grimacing with embarrassment at me, "another one. Hiya, by the way."

As we exchanged socially distanced greetings, I spotted Bianca appearing at the door - to my relief, she was smiling.

**-**

We walked the short journey to the park, and while Harry, Elis, and Finn went to play football, Bianca and I sat on a nearby bench so she could hold Rhiannon. Despite the state of our relationship, seeing my little sister holding my daughter made me indescribably happy.

As we chatted about what we'd been up to since we'd last seen each other and how we'd found lockdown, I felt a glimmer of hope that we were moving forward. She asked about Rose and Dee and Alfie, I asked about her mum and dad, she asked about the business, and I asked how she was finding teaching now she had to do it remotely - it was like I was talking to a friend, and I prayed that it meant we could become sisters.

"How are you, anyway?" she asked. "You look tons better than I did for the first three months after Finn was born."

"Knackered, mainly. Today's the first time I've put makeup on in weeks, and that's only because Harry's mum took care of Non for me, so I had the time." Sighing happily, I added, "But, other than feeling exhausted, and having the odd blue moment from all the hormones, I feel fine."

"Good. Do you plan on having more?"

"Yeah, I hope so. We'll have to see how Harry's schedule is."

"Is he being hands-on?"

"Oh, yeah, massively! I can't fault him, really. He's got quite a few Godchildren, so he's probably better with kids than I am." I watched Harry running around, playing with my nephew, and my chest warmed with adoration. "What about you? Are you going to have more?"

"Eventually, yeah. Elis was pretty reluctant for ages, but when he saw the first picture you sent of Rhiannon, he mentioned us having another." She rolled her eyes, "I wanted to do more teaching first, but I'm not sure that'll happen any time soon."

We were quiet for a moment; watching as Harry and Elis celebrated Finn scoring what I imagined was not a legitimate goal by throwing their arms up and crowding around him as they cheered.

Glancing at Non, I felt that rush of love I still hadn't gotten used to feeling. "I can't wait for her to be that age; when she starts really showing her personality."

"It's pretty boss, sometimes," Bianca grinned. "Other times, not so much. He's already too clever and has too much personality."

"I-" Stopping, I momentarily held back what I wanted to say. We were having a lovely conversation, and I didn't want to ruin it, but I needed to know if we weren't just going through the motions and she really wanted us to have a genuine relationship. I took a breath and tentatively asked, "Would you want these two to know each other?"

Bianca didn't react, although I could see her expression hardening ever so slightly. Then, after a painful gap of silence, she turned her head to look at me. The dream I'd had of Paula had refreshed my memory of how our mother had looked, and Bianca resembled her far more than I did - it perhaps explained why I felt so unsure of myself around her.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "There are times when I just want to call you and we can be best friends and sisters. I spent so long imagining how we'd be when I found you, and this wasn't it at all. I'm guessing you have the same feeling?"

Dropping my gaze down to my lap, I nodded. "This is kind of worse than when we fought. I don't know if you actually want to see me, or if you only agree because you think you should."

"I honestly don't know, either."

Ouch.

Tears blurred my vision, but I quickly swept them away before I lifted my head back up to meet her eye. She looked genuinely apologetic for being hurtful, but there was also an air of relief for being honest about how she felt. "Well, I'm absolving you of any requirement to be here. I honestly don't want you to feel like you have to meet me, that isn't fair on either of us. I want you to do it because you want to."

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I guess I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to. Y'know, like I said, I don't know either way how I feel."

Rhiannon must have sensed the tense atmosphere building between the two of us, her tiny little body wriggling as she whined. I held out my hands so Bianca could pass her back to me just in time for her to start crying. In a way, I was glad to be saved by the bell, but I didn't want to leave the conversation with my sister on such a sour note.

Thankfully, as I put a dummy in Non's mouth, and lay her head on my shoulder, I gently bounced her up and down and she fell silent once more. (However, I knew her fussy mood meant the silence wouldn't last for long. As the weeks went by, I was learning that I wouldn't have to wait until she was Finn's age to work out that Harry and I had a strong-willed little madam on our hands, and I guessed I only had myself to blame for that!)

Free to move, Bianca crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest; retreating back into herself and putting distance between us. I'd hoped my addressing the problem would mean we could deal with it, but it was becoming apparent that I'd only made it worse.

"Listen," I said, twisting in my seat so that my upper-body faced her, "I want us to move on from our falling out and the horrible stuff we said to each other. I know that you and I will never truly agree on the choice I made, but I won't keep trying to convince you if you think you can stop holding it against me. If you don't think you can, then please just tell me. We don't have to never speak again, but maybe it would be easier to stop putting ourselves in these situations if we're honest."

"The problem I have is that it changes all the bloody time."

"Then just tell me that!" I told her. "Bianca, I am your sister. You might not believe it, but I love you regardless of anything. If I tell you I'm coming up here and ask to meet up but you don't want to, then as hurt as I'll be, I'm not going to hate you for it. It will break my heart if you say you never want to see me again, but I'm always going to be here if you need me."

To my surprise, Bianca put her head in her hand and started to cry. I wanted to comfort her properly, but with my hands full, all I could do was reach out and touch her knee.

Eventually, she raised her head up to the cloudless sky and took a deep breath. Wiping her tears, she said, "I don't want to not see you again, I do want you in my life, but-" she paused as she strove not to cry again. "I don't know if we'll ever be as close as we'd both like. I honestly have tried, but... but I don't know."

Her response was an undeniable punch to the gut, and I had to bite back my own tears as they threatened to spill. I wanted to plead with her to reconsider, but, much as what she'd said broke my heart, I had to respect what she wanted. Forcing the issue would only do more harm than good, and Bianca still needed time.

When she put her hand on mine, all I could do was protect her as I had always tried to do, and tell her, "Whatever you need."


	51. Warm Love

** Harry **

She did her best to hide it, but Layla was heartbroken about Bianca - they'd managed to keep things pleasant for the rest of our time together, but as soon as we got back to Mum's, and she'd put Non to bed, she'd broken down. It was agony to see her so upset and not be able to make any of it better for her. When we'd left the house that morning, Layla had been so hopeful that her sister had been given adequate time and space to forgive her, but all her hopes for a close relationship had been shattered and it was killing her.

Still, when we woke the following morning - the morning of her birthday - she seemed to be okay and didn't mention the previous day at all. When I'd asked how she was feeling, she'd given me a bright, but slightly forced, smile, and replied, "I'm great. I don't want to think about it, I just want to focus on spending the day with you, her, and your mum."

Leaving her to get dressed, I took the baby downstairs with me and went to join Mum in the kitchen.

"Morning, love. And hello, my little darling!" She came over to us with her arms outstretched, and I handed my daughter over to her grandmother - we were going to be away for a couple of months, so I figured it best to let Mum have all the cuddles with her granddaughter while she could. "All set for today?"

The proposal. I'd always liked the idea of proposing to my future wife in the place I felt most at home and free in - Holmes Chapel. So, when Layla had realised she was born in a house in the next village over, it had seemed serendipitous that we both had some of the happiest moments in the same place. It seemed even more so when she'd told me she was ready to get married again only a week before we were due to visit. I already had the ring, and when we'd started trying for a baby I'd had it resized to fit her using the one of hers I'd pinched to wear as mine, so all I'd needed was to get her alone and without anything to distract her. A picnic in the countryside, just the two of us, on her birthday - it felt like the perfect timing.

"I'm not sure if today's such a good idea," I whispered, before heading to make myself some coffee. "Lil was really upset last night about her sister, so..."

"How's she feeling about it this morning?" Mum asked, sympathetically. "The poor love, I honestly feel for her."

"She's fine, I think. But I'm worried she's hiding how much it hurt her."

Nodding her head, Mum was quiet as she was momentarily distracted by Rhiannon yawning. It was pretty ironic that the same baby who'd had both Lil and me up three times in the night, was now yawning because she was tired. Layla was convinced our daughter was going to become a bit of a handful, and I was starting to suspect she was right.

"Maybe you should just go, do everything you have planned, get her out of the house and give her a break from the baby for an hour or two, and if you still think it's not the right time, then don't do it." Mum glanced in the direction of the hallway, checking to make sure Layla wasn't coming down the stairs. "She loves you, and you already know that she wants to marry you, so maybe it's exactly what she needs to remind her that she has you and her daughter - you're her family now. And she has all of her friends, and us, too."

"What if she says no?" I asked, before asking Non, "Eh? What if Mummy says no and I make her feel worse?"

"Harry, darling, she's not going to say no. You will be fine."

**-**

Layla was reluctant about going on the picnic without the baby, and I hate seeming so cold as I convinced her that she needed some time to be herself; that Mum would look after her, and we'd only be gone for an hour or two. Thankfully, Mum chimed in.

"I know how nerve-wracking it is leaving your baby for the first time, darling," she said, gently, "but you both need some time alone. It doesn't feel like it now, but it will do you the world of good. Go, get some air, and spend some time together. It's your birthday, you deserve a little break. We'll both be here when you get back."

"Are you sure you don't want us to take her? Or, you could come with-"

Holding up a firm, but not unkind, hand. "I'm absolutely certain! Besides, I've waited long enough to get some quality time with my granddaughter. We'll have some lunch, lots of cuddles, and maybe a little nap."

Leaving them to talk - feeling like Mum was doing a much better job of soothing Lil's concerns than I had been - I went to prepare our picnic. Fruit, sandwiches (cheese and pickle for me, ham and cucumber for her), various other snacks she liked, and a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne; I loaded it all into the wicker basket Mum had had for years and debated whether to hide the ring box in there too, or if I should keep it concealed about my person. I didn't want to risk her finding it when she invariably insisted on helping me set everything up, but the box was glaringly obvious even with loose clothing.

Just as I decided to risk hiding the box in a hole in the red gingham lining of one of the side pockets in the basket, Mum came into the kitchen. Giving me a thumbs up, she whispered, "Full steam ahead! She's just going to feed and change Rhiannon, then she'll be ready to go. The poor love is absolutely shattered, but I think she knows she needs a break."

"Do you think she'll be okay?" I asked, feeling doubt creeping back in. "She's exhausted, she's stressed about work and the business, and what happened with Bianca, and then she's going to feel guilty for leaving Non."

Mum could see the look of worry on my face - my fingers still touching the red cube where it lay hidden inside the lining, ready to whip it back out if I thought for a second anything would go wrong. Coming to my side and wrapping her arms around my middle, she gave me a reassuring squeeze. "Stop worrying. You'll be fine, and she'll be fine."

**-**

Mum was wrong - Layla wasn't fine. She was putting up a pretty convincing act that she was having fun, but she was quiet and distracted and not at all like the Layla I'd come to know since she no longer had to keep me at a distance. Now that I knew her, it was much easier to spot when she was putting up a front.

"Are you okay?" I asked when she linked her arm with mine and huddled up close to my side while we strolled through flat, green fields. I wasn't sure about Lil, but the clean, country air was exactly what I needed.

After a few moments, she replied, "I feel weird without Non; like I've left my left arm back at the house."

"I know. But we don't have to be out too long if you don't want to."

"Sorry," she sighed and nudged my shoulder with her head. "You're trying to do something nice for me and I'm being miserable and depressing. Thank you for this, it honestly is lovely to be outside in the fresh air with just you."

Looking at her, and seeing a genuine smile on her beautiful face that was a wholehearted attempt at changing her mood, I leant down to kiss her. "I just want you to have a nice birthday, and I don't want you putting so much pressure on yourself."

Layla hummed but didn't respond. Walking the rest of the way in near silence, it was only when we came to a stop in the spot I thought would be perfect for a proposal - next to the river, with a view of the countryside around us, and little chance of being disturbed - that she spoke again.

Taking the blue tartan blanket from me so she could lay it down on the grass, she said, "Despite how grumpy I am, I'm already having a lovely day. I promise I am trying so hard not to let what happened yesterday get to me. So, so hard."

Just as I'd expected, Layla went straight for the basket - taking everything out and setting everything out nicely on the blanket so it looked picture perfect. My heart was in my throat as I watched her, but other than a gentle prod of the odd lump under the fabric lining, she simply shrugged and closed the wicker lid back down. Thank god it was sunny because I was beginning to sweat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, sitting down so that the basket was behind me and I was its gatekeeper.

She sighed heavily; popping the cork on the champagne, then briefly looking disappointed when she spotted it was non-alcoholic (even though it was what she'd requested). "I don't know. Mostly, I'm at peace with her decision; like, I understand that it was a lot for her to take, and I'm the only person left who she can project the hurt and upset onto. But, then, I'll think about it too much, and I'll remember all I've learnt about how none of what happened was my fault, and then I just want to cry over the unfairness of being blamed for it all."

"She obviously wants to keep trying or she wouldn't agree to meet with you, she'd make up some excuses about being busy."

"Yeah, she made that point, too. It's hard, and it fucking hurts because I want us to be in each other's lives, but she needs more time." Chewing the inside of her cheek, Layla cast her gaze toward the water; eyes fixed as it flowed and rippled next to us. "The silver lining is that we know where the other is now. I'll be waiting for her, if and when she's ready to forgive me." When I was silent, she looked at me and smiled, "I can tell you want to say something."

Chuckling, I shook my head, "No, it's nothing. And I don't want to upset you, I don't want us to fall out on your birthday."

"We won't. I'd like to know what you think - your opinion is important to me."

It was a risk, but as much as I wanted to keep the atmosphere romantic and peaceful, she was being honest with me, and I needed to voice something I'd felt since we'd first gone to Liverpool together. "Well- It's like... I just think she's really hard on you."

"Yeah?" she replied, seemingly genuinely surprised that I felt that way.

"Yeah. I mean, I know she's your sister and how much you want her to love you like you do her, but I hate how she unfairly puts all the blame on you." Watching her drop her head to gaze down at the weave of blue wool intermingling with the black and red, I reached out to touch her knee. "Lil, I don't want you to go back to blaming yourself for something you had no control over. You said it to her yourself: she doesn't know what it was like - on that day, or before."

My heart sank when Layla lifted her head and I saw she was crying. I moved immediately to comfort her; pulling her into my arms and kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, baby," she wept. "I'm just struggling today. I'm exhausted, I miss the baby, I'm terrified my business is about to go down the toilet, and my own flesh and blood wants nothing to do with me."

Stroking her back and wiping her tears as they rolled down her cheek, I searched for something to say that would soothe her. I wanted to make everything better, but I knew her well enough that she needed to cry everything out, and then, tomorrow, with a clearer head, she would be fine. So, holding her tight and whispering that everything would work out, I forgot about the proposal and simply held her.

**-**

Mum was eagerly waiting when we got back to the house. She rushed out into the hall from the living room, smiling widely and ready to be the first to congratulate us. Layla's head was down as she pulled apart the laces on her trainers so she could kick them off.

"So!" Mum beamed. "How was your afternoon?"

Her happiness faltered, noticing Lil's tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, and it was only when she realised the tears were from sadness, that my mother looked in my direction and saw me signalling to her to not say anything.

"Why don't you go lie down, baby? I'll bring up Non in a bit," I told Lil. I knew she wasn't feeling entirely herself when she nodded her head and did as I suggested.

We waited for her to disappear upstairs before Mum turned to me. "What happened?"

Shrugging my jacket off, I couldn't help but feel disappointed. "It wasn't the right time."

-

After three rings, Rose answered. "Y'ello!"

"Hey, Rose, it's, uh, it's Harry. Can you talk?"

She was quiet for a moment, before asking, "Hi, Harry... Is everything okay? Is Layla okay? The baby?"

"No, no, they're fine."

I heard her sigh with relief. "Oh! Good! Sorry, mate, I thought that the only reason you'd call me is if something was wrong. What's up?"

Coming to a stop at the end of the road, I nervously started to scuff the soles of my trainers on the edge of the pavement. "I kind of need your advice on something. But, I need you to not tell Lil about it."

She gasped, asking, "Harry, are you going to propose?!" The excitement in her voice was encouraging - which, after doubting myself at the picnic, was very much needed. "Of course I won't say anything! I want her to be surprised."

"Well, the thing is... I was going to do it earlier - I had this picnic all planned out, Mum was looking after Non, we went to this beautiful spot by the river, and... and I bottled it." Bottled it wasn't right, so I corrected myself. "Or, rather, I realised the timing today wasn't good."

"For you?"

"For her. She was stressed about Bianca, and about being away from Rhiannon for the first time, and, I don't know... her mind wasn't on what we were doing."

Rose groaned, "Ugh! Well, you don't want to know what I think about Bianca, Harry, but knowing she ruined something that would have made Layla so happy, and that would have given her yet another perfect birthday with you, makes me even more furious."

"For once, I think we're on the same page. I get the reasons, but seeing how much it affects her, it's frustrating and shit."

"Oh, it pisses me off so much! I had to stop myself from having a word last night, I was so angry." I'd come to know that Rose's bark was far worse than her bite, but I could hear genuine fury in her voice. "But, moving on from that, how can I help?"

"How do I do it now? Today was the perfect set up; something I'd imagined doing forever, but-"

"You can't drag her out on another picnic, or she'll call you out on being up to something?"

"Exactly. I don't want her to have any idea it's coming."

"Can't you do it in Italy?" she suggested. "I know you're going there to shoot a video, so you won't have too much time, but the place means a lot to you both."

It did mean a lot to us, and I tried never to go there without her unless it was absolutely necessary. When I'd reluctantly had to go whilst she was pregnant, she'd insisted that she was going to be fine and made me promise I would bring her back some Balsamic Vinegar from _La Consorteria 1966_ in Modena. We still hadn't been to Venice or Modena together, and maybe if we weren't going to have Rhiannon with us, then it would a great place to propose to her (it was her suggestion that we should go there when we'd been having our affair, after all), but even with restrictions, I was worried it would be too busy and too risky. It was also too far from where I was shooting the video, as was Tuscany - where she and I had truly gotten our fresh start.

Still, it wasn't a terrible idea, and I'd discovered that with Layla, it wasn't the places we went to that were overly special, but simply being there with her. Wherever we went, wherever I asked her to be my wife, I knew it would be special to us.

Taking my silence as reluctance, Rose spoke again. "I know you want it to be amazing and perfect, and I want that for her, too, but she's honestly not going to care when and where it happens, just so long as she knows you've put some thought into it."

It dawned on me that Layla's sister - because that's what she was, they may not have had shared DNA, but to anyone who met them, it was obvious that they were sisters - had sounded excited about me proposing, but hadn't sounded surprised. I should have figured that Lil would tell Rose about her suggesting we should get married.

"So, when did she tell you she was ready to get married again?"

Rose let out a genuine laugh, before telling me, "Harry, babe, I think you know better than to think I'm going tell you something like that."

"I know, I know, but I thought I'd try, anyway."

"God loves a trier! What I will say is: Layla is ready. She's scared, but she's ready. If I didn't think that she was, then I would straight up tell you. Italy'll be perfect because it's a country you both adore and have special memories of, but America would be fine, or you could wait until you get back home to London, or try again in Cheshire - it's not going to matter to her." She sighed, not out of annoyance, but of not having any more to tell me because the solution was simple. "Just make it special, I know you know how to do that. It doesn't have to be all-singing-all-dancing; just put some thought into _how_ you do it, promise that you'll never, ever, hurt her again, and you'll have nothing to worry about. "

I could feel myself getting excited again; encouraged by Rose's words and already coming up with ideas for what I could do to make it a special moment for both Layla and me.

"Thank you, Rose. I think I have an idea of how I can do it." I added with a chuckle, "I _think_."

"Anytime, mate. You know where I am if you need any help. My wife and I are willing to lie to her on this occasion," she laughed.

Joining in with her laughter, I debated bringing up my past mistakes to her. Rose had taken a long time to fully warm to me, and although we got on just fine, I always felt like she was waiting for me to trip up. Did I want to stir up the past when she seemed so genuinely pleased and supportive of Layla and me getting married? Not really. But I did want to reassure her that Layla and the baby were my world, and I would never intentionally do anything to risk losing either of them. When I'd confessed to Layla that I'd cheated on her, I'd told her I would never hurt her, and I'd done everything within my power to stick to that promise.

"I appreciate it. And I want to reassure you that I'm never going to hurt her again. I'm never going to do anything to lose her."

Rose was silent for a few painful seconds, but as I began to regret saying anything, she cleared her throat and, in a voice that sent a chill up my spine, said, "I know you won't, Harry. You and her have something truly special, and you'd be a complete mug to fuck that up. Look after her, look after my niece, and you and I will never have a reason to fall out."

"I promise you that I'll take care of them both."

"Wonderful! That's all I needed to hear." The coldness in her tone was gone, replaced by brightness and warmth. "Now, tell me what you have planned."

**\---**

**A.N** **.: I can't believe we've reached this point already; the penultimate chapter. I'm going to be posting the epilogue on the 1st of February - I'd originally planned for the 29th until I realised that it would be nice to finish this journey on Harry's birthday. I tested positive for** **Covid** **on Sunday and I don't feel so great, so I'll be slow with replies to your wonderful comments, but know that I see and read them and that they mean the world to me.**

**Love to you all, see on the 1st of Feb! ❤❤❤**


	52. Epilogue - Old Italian Love Song

I woke from my nap feeling confused and discombobulated but also feeling so much better than I had earlier. Sitting up, I was hit with guilt for having ruined Harry's lovely birthday picnic for me, embarrassed that I'd broken down. Everything had gotten too much, and the anxiety over leaving Rhiannon had been the last straw.

Contemplating taking a shower to help further shed the dark, heavy, weight I'd had hanging over me all morning and afternoon, I noticed my phone light up as Will's face appeared on the screen. I almost didn't answer, but after all the years we'd been married and he'd ignored my birthday, I still got enjoyment out of his attempts to make up for being a prick.

"Hey, you," I said, answering the call before waiting for him to finish singing ' _Happy Birthday_ ' to me. "Thank you, thank you. Delightful as ever!"

"You're welcome! I've been taking singing lessons with Harry," Will joked. "So, how's your day been?"

"It's been..." I sought out the words to lie, but couldn't. "It's not been great."

Explaining about what had happened with Bianca, and then about the picnic and me bawling my eyes out, misery threatened to make a return. I wished I had lied, but it seemed appropriate that of all the people to have called when I'd been inconsolable about my sister, was the person who'd soothed me for years after nightmares I had about her and my mother. It was the one thing I couldn't fault Will for during our marriage: he'd always taken care of me as I struggled to grasp for reality. He'd make me a mug of hot chocolate, and sit up with me until I was better enough to go back to sleep.

"Oh shit, Lil, I'm so sorry. I don't blame you for being upset," Will sighed, sympathetically, before adding, "And I doubt Harry blames you, either. I genuinely am sorry, and it's really unfair."

"Life's unfair, right?" I laughed, weakly, reassured that others thought Bianca's decision was unfair. "My life's pretty wonderful right now, so I had to take a hit somewhere, I guess."

"You don't have to do that, you don't have to pretend you're okay with it. Not with me, not with Rose or Dee, and certainly not with Harry."

"I have to, Will. I have to." Biting back a sob as it rose in my chest, I exhaled it out and wiped away a fresh wave of tears. "If I confront how I actually feel - if I really, _really_ think about it - I'd struggle to come back from the pain. I'm not bottling it up, but I'm protecting myself by not looking directly at it."

"Okay, okay," Will conceded, and I was grateful he didn't force the matter further. "Well, you know we're all here for you. You'll always have us. We love you, I love you, and all we want is for you to be happy. Bianca's feelings are valid up to a point, but she's missing out on having the best, most kind, loving, generous, funny-"

"Okay, I get your point," I chuckled, wiping my tears with the back of my sleeve.

"I could go on!" Will's laugh was warm and genuine - a world away from the man I'd once called my husband. "She'll come around eventually, Lil. Just focus on you, Non, and Harry, and all the people who love you."

Perhaps it was weird because we'd once been married, but I'd grown to regard him as an older brother; someone I was closer to than simply a friend, but there were no more romantic or sexual feelings toward one another. He was brutally honest with me, regularly called me out if I was being too stubborn for my own good (my flat out refusal to meet or mention Harry despite me being hopelessly in love with him, for example!), and we teased and made fun of each other, constantly. Even though they'd put their differences aside, I knew it was hard for Harry to understand. I'd loathed Will at one point - and I suspected the feeling may have been mutual - but he'd grown to be someone I trusted wholeheartedly.

**\---**

Harry's video for his song 'Golden' was being filmed along the Amalfi coast. Because of social distancing, he only had a small team working on it and wanted it to be a little more fun and spontaneous than ones he'd done in the past. Despite being apprehensive about travelling (during a global pandemic, with a newborn? Hello, stress!) it felt so good to be in Italy again. Harry had reassured me that everything would be fine, and reminded me it was probably best to take our three and a half week old baby on a short, European flight _before_ we took her on a twelve-hour one to America.

I hadn't been to a video shoot of his before, so it was exciting to observe yet another facet of his work. It was thoroughly enjoyable to watch as he gleefully performed for the camera, driving around in a vintage sports car, and even being let loose on a speedboat. Admittedly, it was a little strange to see him confidently parading around topless in extremely wide-leg trousers and a yellow fisherman's hat, or in an oversized navy and burgundy shirt and trousers, with a matching boater hat - yet it came as no real surprise that he pulled off every outfit his stylist, Harry Lambert, had chosen. He stopped being my Harry, and was a little bit more Harry Styles.

Non and I watched from the sidelines, doing our best not to get in the way or draw any attention. I'd expected her to cry more, but she seemed perfectly happy in her carrier - nuzzled against my chest, getting attention from the crew and Harry's team, and sleeping. I mostly kept her out of sight - especially as filming was drawing more and more attention - but after hiding in one of the cars to feed or change her, I'd let her have a little bit of freedom and fresh air on her sweet little face. (She was looking more and more like Harry - I do all the work, and she comes out looking like her father!)

While Harry was sprinting along the main road through Amalfi, dressed in a white, oversized dress shirt, shorts, and his plimsolls, and chasing after a car which had a camera on the back, I slipped away to change Non's nappy. When I got back, filming had paused, and there seemed to be some standing around to make sure the shots they were getting were good.

Harry spotted Rhiannon and me, and his face lit up with a beaming smile. He made his way over, and after kissing me quickly, he placed one on Non's head, over her lemon yellow, Broderie Anglaise sun hat. She stared at him with studious focus, and once she'd decided she knew the voice and the blurry shape in front of her, she smiled - or rather, she appeared to smile as the corners of her mouth curved upwards.

"Oh, is that for me?" he cooed, reaching out to take her from me. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that at three weeks old, it was probably just wind). "Hello, beautiful, have you been good for Mummy?"

"She's been very good, hardly any fussing at all," I told him, pulling the hem of her dress down where it had ridden up. "She hasn't long woken up, so I might go back to the villa in a little while - get her out of the sun. Also, be careful she doesn't dribble on your clothes. I know Harry will kill me."

Harry nodded a thank you as I slipped a towel on his shoulder just as Non's open mouth was about to clamp down on his shirt, "I don't think we'll be here much longer, anyway. Seems word's gotten out about us being here. Oh, and I was thinking that just the two of us could have dinner tonight."

"Sure, of course."

Apparently, I'd missed the point of his suggestion, because he added for clarification, "I just thought... uh, y'know, after your birthday, I thought it would be nice to have a re-do."

Remembering how I'd ugly cried at the lovely picnic he'd taken me on a few days earlier to celebrate my birthday, I fought back a grimace. I had been more than willing to write the day off as just another on the list of shitty things that had happened in the hellish year of 2020, but I felt touched by Harry's want to make up for it.

"How sweet you are," I smiled, hand reaching up to touch his warm and wavy, slightly sun-bleached hair. "I'd love that. Thank you, baby."

"Everyone's going out, so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can put this one to bed, have dinner, and enjoy Italy as we usually do." His smile was suggestive as he leant into my touch and placed his free arm around my lower back. "I want your undivided attention for an hour or two, please, James."

**-**

Rhiannon did not want to sleep. I'd done everything which would normally settle her, and yet she continued to cry and fuss. Red-faced, eyes scrunched up, and mouth wide open showing her gums, she bawled loudly as I gently rocked her from side-to-side and shushed her.

"Someone's not happy," Harry said, coming out of the bathroom after his shower; a towel wrapped around his waist and one slung over his shoulder.

"She's just not settling at all," I groaned, feeling a little frustrated. "It's been a long day out for her, it's warm, and even though it's only an hour, I think maybe the time difference has thrown her, so she's overtired. Maybe we'll have to do dinner another-"

Stripping off his towel so he was naked as he wandered around the room, Harry grabbed a pair of jogging bottoms from off a chair and slipped them on. Once upon a time, I would have had him on the bed before he could get dressed again, but, alas, those days were gone. (For a little while at least). Then, coming over to me with a determined look, he took Non out of my arms.

"Absolutely not. Here, let me try." Pointing to the bathroom, he told me, "Go get in the shower and get ready, I will try and get her to sleep."

I didn't have the energy to argue. Pride about being the only person to soothe her had long gone out of the window, and I'd reached the point where I didn't care who stopped my daughter from crying, as long as they did it. Besides, I enjoyed watching Harry take care of her and taking his role as a father seriously - if there were times when he could stop her from crying and I couldn't, that meant we were at least doing something right.

Inside the shower cubicle, I could hear Non's cries starting to fade away until, finally, I couldn't hear anything except that of cascading water around me. Harry's idea of a romantic dinner for two was truly lovely, but there was a tiny part of me that simply wanted to get into bed and sleep while the baby slept.

Each day was an odd mix of being so overwhelmingly delighted and elated to take care of this tiny human which I'd created from my very body, and being so exhausted I wanted to weep for a moment's respite. I longed for silence when she cried, but ached with longing when I was away from her for more than ten minutes. The relentless mix of emotions was a lovely little bonus side salad for the main meal of motherhood.

Tearing myself out of the shower, I did a little makeup to make myself feel a little more awake; Eyeliner, mascara, and even a little red lipstick like the old Layla. I then threw on a matching underwear set (with a proper bra; one that didn't unhook so I could nurse!), and a red and white polka-dot dress which was low-cut, and went down to my calves but had a side-split up to my thigh. The reflection in the mirror appeared less tired than I felt, and it was pleasant to have a glimpse of my old-self - it was a date-night, after all.

Out in the bedroom, Harry was gone. Creeping over to Rhiannon's cot, I peeked inside and was amazed to find she was fast asleep; looking perfectly peaceful and angelic. Harry Styles - Baby Whisperer.

Quickly putting my damp hair into two braids and pinning them up on the top of my head - listening over the baby monitor as Harry quietly hummed and sang to himself - I made one last check on Non, then went to find him.

Out in the living area of our suite, I carefully closed the bedroom door behind me and spotted Harry out on the balcony, where we were going to be having dinner.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," I said, stepping outside; the terracotta tiles warm against my bare feet. "Baby, this looks lovely!"

He'd set the table with two place settings - positioned so we could sit close - and had already poured me a cold glass of wine. In the middle, there was a vase filled with pale pink roses, and I'd caught him in the midst of dotting tealight candles around, ready to be lit once the sun went down. The effort he'd gone to seemed to wake me from my sleepiness and made me remember that, just as Anne had said, Harry and I needed our own time together, too.

Harry glanced up, then gave my ego a little boost by doing a double-take. He let his green-eyed gaze wander from the top of my head, down to my aquamarine painted toes - his lips curving into a lopsided smile that sparked the first glimmer of genuine lust I'd experienced in weeks and weeks.

"You look..." Abandoning the candles, he approached me and circled his arms around my waist. As he pulled me tight against his body, I placed my hands on the tops of his arms and eagerly welcomed his kiss. He whispered between kisses, "You're so beautiful. I don't know how I'm going to make it through dinner."

He looked pretty spectacular himself; having changed into a pair of cream-coloured trousers and a pale blue shirt, which he'd rolled the sleeves on, so they were up to his elbows. Moving a hand to turn his cross necklace where the chain had twisted, I dragged my index finger down a little lower and pulled apart another one of the buttons. "We could skip it?"

Catching hold of my fingers before I pulled another undone to reveal the butterfly located on his solar plexus, Harry's cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink as he chuckled sweetly and shook his head, "No, no, we'll just have to be patient, and wait."

**-**

Dinner was beautiful, and spending time alone with Harry, doing grown-up things, was exactly what my soul needed. I allowed myself the night to have a couple of glasses of white wine, we ate delicious food while chatting and quietly listening to a playlist of jazz and swing, and the view looking out over the sea as the sun began to set was perfect. Yet again, Harry had made my - belated - birthday celebrations something truly unforgettable.

"I always forget about how many places I want to go in Italy until I'm here," I sighed, leaning back in my chair and taking in all the shades of pinks, oranges, and purples colouring the sky. "We could just hop in the car and tick off about three of them."

Getting up to light the candles he'd placed around us, Harry asked, "Well, where do you want to go next?"

"I'd like to go to Positano, and Sorrento, then to the islands to visit Capri and Ischia - I'd really love to go to Capri. I read Spike Milligan's war diaries when I was sixteen - they were the only complete set of books on my foster parents' bookshelves - and he spent a chunk of time in Italy towards the end of his army career. He came here to Amalfi, to Pompeii, over to Capri, Ischia; loads of other places." Shrugging, I told him, "He fell in love with an Italian girl, and I... I dunno, I really loved how he described 1940s Italy; away from the war, quiet little restaurants where nobody spoke English, drinking cheap red wine and being in love."

Chin resting on the heel of his palm as he sat back down and rested his elbow on the table, he smiled, "We'll add them all to the list for next time."

"I told you before: we should run away and live here. We can get married in some quiet little church, get to work on that fleet of children you want, live off the land, and have our friends and family come to visit. You could write Italian love songs."

He closed his eyes and his expression became dreamy. "That sounds perfect - all my songs would be for you." Candlelight flickered in the reflection of his eyes as he opened them and fixed his gaze on me, smirking, "Layla James, why are you always trying to run away with me?"

"You don't want to run away with me, too, Styles?"

"You know that I definitely do," he chuckled, looking so beautiful that I felt momentarily breathless. "So you still want to get married here, then? Somewhere in Italy?"

A wedding somewhere by the water; red, pink, and white roses, surrounded by our friends and family, with our little girl in Rose's arms as she and Dee walked ahead of Carol and me down the aisle. When I pictured Harry at the altar, looking devastatingly beautiful as always, the thought of it gave me butterflies.

"Yep! Unless you'd prefer somewhere else?"

"No," Harry replied with a mischievous smirk, sitting up slightly and shifting in his seat, "Italy's fine with me. Do you know where you'd like to do it?"

I shook my head, "No. Any suggestions?"

Pausing like he was trying to think, his hand suddenly left its spot on the table and, seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out a small, red box I'd seen once before. I knew what it was, I knew what was inside, and yet the voice inside my head was telling me not to get too excited. Putting a hand to my mouth as I gasped, I stared at him for an explanation.

"How about we get engaged in Amalfi, and then we can decide where we want to get married?" Carefully lifting the lid open to reveal the gold ring with a flower-shaped cluster of diamonds inside - the same one he'd shown me when we sat and agreed to give our relationship a proper go - Harry then reached for my left hand and held it. Gazing at me with tearful but excited eyes, he asked, "Layla James, will you marry me?"

I could see that he was nervous, but, also, there was a surprising amount of calmness and certainty behind his question. For a second, I took him in and let just how much I loved and adored him wash over me. We'd both been distracted with a new baby in our lives, demanding our undivided attention, and although we made every effort to be affectionate with each other, I'd forgotten just how important he was to me.

"Harry, I..." Words failed me as they all rushed forward to get out at once, so, after a few seconds of - what I imagined for Harry was pretty agonising - silence, I propelled from my chair and into his arms. I kissed him as he pulled me onto his lap, and managed to finally murmur against his lips, "Yes. Of course I will!"

"Seriously?" he asked, grinning as tears pooled in his eyes and spilt onto his cheek. "I've been so worried you were going to say no."

"Honestly and truly." Cradling his jaw, I let my eyes wander over his face; taking in every detail, and knowing it was a face I could happily look at forever. "I was never going to say no. If you'd have ever asked me outright, I would have said yes. But you never did."

Harry laughed, loudly, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "Oh shit! Now you tell me?"

"Of course. But I knew you'd only ask when I was ready." Laughing and kissing his cheek, I made him look at me and finally allowed the last remaining part of the wall I'd kept between us to come down. "Harry, it's always been you. I don't even think you know this about me, but from the moment you put your hand on my thigh and stopped me from leaving that bloody table, I have thought about you constantly. Even when I hated you, when I thought I never wanted to see you again, I knew you'd be the one that got away - I'd always regret we couldn't have made it work-"

"Lil..." Harry frowned, wiping my tears of happiness as they streamed down my face.

"No, baby, it's okay. It's more than okay. Every up and down we had, all those times I thought my heart was broken beyond repair, all the times that I missed you, or I thought we were over for good - it was all worth it for the happiness and love we have now. You came back into my life, and you make me happy every, single day. I love you so much, and I have always loved you."

With a wide, beaming smile, he picked up the red and gold box from off the table, took out the ring, and reached for my hand. As he placed the ring on my finger, his hands shook and we both became tearful again. Extending my arm out to see how I looked wearing someone else's ring again, the cluster of diamonds sparkled beautifully in the candlelight. In every sense, it was the perfect fit.

"I've been having nightmares about it not fitting," Harry giggled, wiping his brow in relief. "You have no idea how many times I almost put it on you while you were sleeping to make sure it was the right size. But, at least your reaction was better than the last time I pulled this out."

We both giggled as he held my face and pressed his lips against mine. As we kissed, my head swam with unadulterated joy. This was what I'd been waiting for - I'd wanted him to ask me when I was ready and when I couldn't wait to be his wife. My reaction to the ring was different from the last time because I was more than ready to accept his proposal. We had Rhiannon and our home, we seemed to fall more in love each day, and we'd learnt how to communicate with one another about everything - getting married was the perfect next step for us both. I'd told him I was ready for marriage, and the flood of excitement I'd felt when I saw the ring he'd given me on my hand had only enhanced that readiness.

"I'm going to be somebody's wife again," I breathed, leaning my forehead against his. "I'm going to be your wife."

Harry's smile was dazzling as he nodded. "And you're sure it's what you want? If you want to wai-"

"No, no, it's exactly what I want. I love you so much, it's always been what I've wanted." We kissed again. Sinking my newly decorated hand into his hair, I held him close as our tongues met in jubilant celebration. When I pulled back, I asked him, "And this is what you want?"

"Of course it is!"

"Don't get me wrong, baby, everything's so good right now, and I'm so happy-"

Raising a brow, sceptically, Harry said, "But?"

"But, I worry that it's all leading to an enormous fall. I'm still worried this is all too much too fast for you." Hesitating, I prayed I wasn't about to ruin a beautiful moment. "I have moved on from everything we went through, it isn't something I even think about anymore, but I need to know you want this, and... and that you won't run away."

Harry's slight frown softened into a gentle understanding. "Lil, I know I've made some huge mistakes, but it's always been you. I made those mistakes when I didn't fully understand how I felt; I was scared and confused, but it was you I wanted. We could elope to Gretna Green tomorrow, get married in ten years time, or, we could have a wedding we both want with our family and friends - it doesn't matter. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, I want us to keep building our life together; with our little girl and Stan, and many more babies and pets. I want to see the world with you. Running away is the furthest thing from my mind; unless it's _with_ you."

He'd said everything I had needed to hear, everything I hoped for us. I loved the life we were creating as a team, I loved our beautiful daughter, and the way we did our best to make anything work. None of it sounded like laborious work, anymore. Everything was so much easier since we'd begun being honest and more open to understanding each other. Not to say that everything was perfect, but I felt so excited about the future we were going to have.

"I love you so much," I mumbled, hugging him and kissing his neck. "I can't wait for you to be my husband."

"Fuck," Harry moaned, sliding the hand on my knee under the slit in my dress and over my thigh, so he could grip my behind. "You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that."

"My husband, and I'll be _your_ wife." Grinning as my lips trailed their way to meet his, I repeated something he often said to me: "Mrs Layla Styles."

Groaning and kissing me fervently, he then chuckled, "Mr Harry James."

"Oh! I hadn't thought about that, I quite like it."

Eyes meeting, our giggles faded. I felt a stirring of desire between my legs as I gazed lovingly at his face, feeling the warmth of his body against mine and knowing that he and I were actually going to get married one day.

We'd had sex almost as soon as I was out of the two-week risk period - both of us craving that intimacy and closeness. Because everything downstairs was still in shock from birthing a whole, entire baby, I hadn't gotten too much pleasure in the usual way I normally did, and Harry had been so gentle and cautious that I wasn't entirely sure he'd particularly enjoyed it either (he certainly hadn't been too impressed when I told him I could barely feel anything!) Regardless, I'd missed the feeling of his weight on me, the way he perfectly fit in the gap between my parted thighs, and the feel of his warm breath on my neck as he neared release.

"I want you," Harry whispered, leaning in close to me so that I felt the brushing of his lips on mine as he spoke. "I need you."

Dropping his head slightly, he looked down to watch my legs parting so the hand on my behind could glide over the top of my thigh, and edge closer to where I was beginning to ache for him. Gently stroking his curved knuckle over the seam of the lace, grazing over my pussy, Harry smirked when a whimper fell from my mouth. I was reminded of how much he turned me on, and how much I liked it.

I turned my head and sought his kiss - catching hold of his face and looking at him for a second before our lips met in a burst of desire. "Fuck," I whimpered, hips rolling and being rewarded with the feeling of his fingertips rubbing against my clit. "Here?"

"Inside."

Getting to my feet, I finished my drink and Harry followed suit. With a naughty grin in my direction, he grabbed the baby monitor and my hand, and led me inside.

We kissed again; an open-mouthed, tongue dancing, heavy breathing, oh-my-god-we're- _actually_ -engaged sort of kiss, which made us both giddy and breathless. As he backed me up towards the plum coloured sofa, I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt; eager to feel his bare skin against mine and to press kisses over his tattooed chest. Landing on the sofa with a gentle bounce, I pulled Harry down with me, but he pulled back a little and knelt down on the floor between my legs. I ran a hand through the waves of his hair - watching him in the dim light place a trail of kisses up my inner thigh - and felt a tinge of sadness that he would soon have to cut it.

"You have to be quiet," he mumbled. "I need to fuck you so badly, we can't risk waking the baby."

"Fuck me now, then."

"Nuh-uh." Hands pushing up my dress, the warmth of Harry's breath swept across my skin. "I want to taste you and make you come."

I held my breath as Harry pulled my underwear to one side, because, even though I was giddy with love and a little merry from the wine, I was still nervous about how I looked. We'd had sex, but not much else, and as wonderfully resilient as the female genitals are, I could only imagine what an absolute car crash mine looked like only four weeks after giving birth. But it felt good to have his mouth on my skin and to know that he still desired me; that we still desired each other.

Biting my bottom lip, I watched him and readied myself for him to run screaming to the hills. But, if he was horrified, he hid it exceptionally well. (If anything, he had a look in his eye which was reminiscent of the one I'd seen earlier when we'd sat down to dinner.)

His actions were sweet and tender; soft kisses and light licks placed gently over skin which was slick with my arousal, his free hand parting my lips so he could slide the tip of his tongue in a circle all around the button of nerves without touching it once. Leaning back against the plump cushions, I moaned his name and basked in the pleasure he was giving to me even solely by teasing. Green eyes twinkling up at me in the candlelight coming from outside, he paused for a moment, before parting his lips to show me the wet pinkness of his tongue - which I now craved so badly - knowing the first touch usually made me moan loudly. I held my breath when it emerged fully and connected with my skin, before he swept it up in one toe-curling lap over my clit.

"Promise to be quiet?" Harry asked, purposefully letting his breath fan over my hub as he spoke.

Whimpering and bringing my hand to my mouth, I nodded, "I promise, baby."

Despite his warnings to be quiet, Harry seemed determined that I would fail as his mouth worked its magic on me. He'd always told me that he loved hearing my moans and whimpers, and we both knew this was not the time for me to be vocal, but as his tongue mercilessly swirled over my nerves, I knew he was trying to make me slip up. A hand clamped over my mouth, the first delicious wave hit and a muffled cry slipped through my fingers. I expected Harry to stop; to playfully scold me while I begged him to continue, but he kept up his pace and tightened his hold on my legs. My head rolled, my back arched, and suddenly not being able to make a sound was torturous; especially when he was making me feel so good.

Hanging on the precipice of my release for a painfully long time, I was almost too scared that when I finally came I'd end up waking not only the baby but the whole house. (Was it late? Or early? Had everyone come home yet? Or were they still out? I'd lost all awareness except to listen out for any noise coming from our bedroom). Clamping my mouth shut, and covering my mouth with my hand, pleasure ripped through me and I practically lifted off the couch as I writhed and rode Harry's tongue - physically trying to scream my orgasm instead of vocally.

Harry moved away once I started to pull at his hair because the sensitivity was too much to bear. He kissed my inner thigh and let me recover; watching me with wide, ravenous eyes while I hazily stroked the tips of my fingers over my flushed chest.

"C'mere," he said, undoing his trousers and dipping his hand inside so he could pull out his hard cock. "Take off your underwear and come here."

I stood on slightly shaky legs and did as he asked; pulling my dress up to my hips and pushing my panties down until they fell to the floor, then stepping out of them. Kicking them aside, I moved closer until I stood before Harry. He gazed up at me with a devilish expression as he stroked himself with one hand, while the other went to my ass to pull my pussy back to his mouth.

Biting back moans as he licked and sucked on the still swollen, sensitive nerves, I lightly - and reluctantly - tugged his head back and playfully scolded, "Greedy Harry."

With a deep, mischievous chuckle, he reached up and pulled my hips until I lowered myself down onto my knees. As we kissed and his arms circled my waist to pull to straddle his lap, I could taste myself on his tongue as it moved with mine. Lifting my dress once more, we both held our breaths as I rose up and he guided the tip of his hardness to my wet, warm entrance - exhaling only when I slowly sank back down and enveloped him.

Sinking to the hilt, I paused to adjust to the feeling of him inside me again.

Harry asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah," I replied, fingers pulling apart the last remaining closed buttons on his shirt so I could push it off of his shoulders, "I've missed this; I've missed you."

He groaned in agreement as we started to move together. Hips rolling in perfect, familiar synchronicity, our lips sought each other out and we gazed into each other's eyes with unabashed love and desire. It had been a long time since I'd been afraid to be vulnerably intimate with him, but I felt a barrier coming down that I hadn't even realised I had between us. As long as I'd known him, I'd always thought that Harry was able to look at me like he could see my soul, but, for the first time, I didn't feel any apprehension about showing it - I wanted him to know everything about me, because I wanted to know every part of him, too.

"I love you so much, Lil," Harry whispered, stealing the words from my mouth.

"I love you, too, baby."

Dropping my head so I could kiss his neck and across his collarbone, I felt the rumbling of his words against my lips as he moaned, "Fuck, you feel so good."

I could tell by the whimper in his voice, and the way his fingers sank into my skin as he grasped my behind, that he was already close to coming undone. He was holding back; knowing that our uninterrupted moments of sex and intimacy were going to be a rarity for a while, and seemingly wanting to savour it while he could. Our baby would wake up soon because she was hungry or needed changing, and my attention would deviate from him to her, because that was our life now we had a child.

But, for the moment, for as long as we could get away with it (and for as long as we both had the energy), my thoughts were purely on Harry.

Sitting up straight, I curved my arm around the back of his neck and pressed my chest against his, and took control as I started to rock my hips at a quick but steady pace. I felt delicious shivers of arousal as Harry's breaths turned to whimpers and groans, and they slipped from his mouth into mine. With repeated, frantic whispers that he was going to come, I muffled his moans with a crush of my lips against his as I rode him to release. His cock hit so deep and so good with his final few thrusts, that I had to bite the back of my hand to stop myself from crying out.

Breaths laboured and shuddering, we stayed wrapped up in each other. Harry rested his damp brow on my shoulder as the grip on my behind eased, then his arms circled my waist again and kept me close.

"I want to do that all night," he eventually chuckled, quietly, breaking our comfortable silence.

"We can if you want." Kissing the top of his head, I trailed my index finger down over the bumps of his spine to make him shiver, and asked, "Or, how about we do it for the rest of our lives?"

**\---**

The others hadn't come back from dinner, and I suspected it was because they'd all known what Harry had planned. I quickly checked on Rhiannon to make sure that she was alright, then went to help him clear our dishes away.

Sitting back out on the balcony, gazing out over the moonlit sea, Harry and I sat close; his arm draped around the back of my chair, my legs angled to rest across his lap. I felt serene and content, and awash with love for this person who'd turned my life upside down for the better. (Although, there were times when it certainly hadn't felt that way!).

Harry accepted my offering of a segment of the clementine we were sharing, and quietly said with a smile, "We'll have to tell people."

I beamed at the thought as I chewed and swallowed my own piece of fruit. "Who are we going to tell first? I don't know why, but I'm a bit nervous to tell Rose."

"Do you honestly think I would propose without getting permission first?"

"She knew?!" I exclaimed, shaking my head while Harry giggled. "So, she was serious when she said she wouldn't tell me if you spoke to her. Well played, Rosemary. Well played."

Stroking his hand up and down the length of my leg, his eyes met mine and he leant in to give me a kiss that was soft and tender, and tasted of clementines. He hummed sweetly against my lips as I kept him close, before asking, "So, you honestly want to marry me, Layla James?

"Of course I do, my love."

"Good," he grinned. "But say it again, 'cause I love hearing you say it,"

Mirroring his grin, I pulled him into another kiss, then whispered against the lips I wanted to kiss forevermore, "Harry Styles, I really, _really_ want to marry you."

**The End**


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